


star-crossed lovers: another rebelcaptain collection

by forestpenguin



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: 5 Sentence Fiction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dorks in Love, Drabble Collection, Endor, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Groceries in Space, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Love Confessions, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Cassian Andor, POV Jyn Erso, Serious Injuries, Sharing a Bed, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, a bit of everything, rating wise there's nothing in here more intense than a SW movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2018-12-23 22:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 63
Words: 28,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestpenguin/pseuds/forestpenguin
Summary: in a kinder universe....(rebelcaptain ask box prompt fills.)





	1. Ticklish

**Author's Note:**

> length ranges from a sentence to ~1k each. mostly snippets of a life post scarif with the odd modern au.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 300 word limit + “Wow, I guess you really are that ticklish.” requested by @dasakuryo

Jyn hikes up Cassian’s shirt, trying not to dwell too much on the scars and skin she’s suddenly exposed. She averts her gaze towards the large gash on his side. It’s a quick fix, and she reaches for the medkit, but it’s nasty enough that Cassian can’t patch it without causing too much pain.

He lifts his head up to watch her peel a sanitizing napkin away from its wrapper.

“Hold still.”

She quickly cleans up the injury, focusing on rubbing his skin free of blood and not on the partially amused and mostly pained look on Cassian’s face.

Her fingers just barely graze over his exposed skin when she reaches for a roll of medical tape with the other hand. She’s so deeply focused on taping the gauze down that the hitch in Cassian’s breathing jolts her with surprise.

“Did I hurt you?” she asks, gently pressing the bacta patch to his side with the tips of her fingers.

“No,” Cassian bares his teeth. “It’s fine. Keep going.” 

She tilts her head. She doesn’t think much of it until her wrist accidentally rubs against his ribs and he flinches again.

“Wow, I guess you really are that ticklish,” she mutters to herself with a small smile.

“What was that?” Cassian asks, and she isn’t entirely sure if he really didn’t hear her.

“Nothing,” she replies, and pats the tape down firmly, yanking his shirt back down with a sense of finality.

He’d find out she knew eventually.


	2. Lava

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "the floor is lava."

Jyn walks in just in time to see Poe teetering on the edge of the Damerons' couch.

“Poe!” she exclaims. “What are you doing? Sit back down properly, you’re going to fall!”

“I won’t fall, tía Jyn,” Poe protests in the enthusiastic voice of a four-year-old, “The floor is lava!” 

“The floor is  _what_?” Jyn’s face wrinkles with confusion, and she even glances down at the floor to confirm that, yes, they were made of wood panels and not lava. 

“Lava,” Poe repeats. “See, even tío Cassi gets it.”

It’s only then that Jyn notices Cassian smiling sheepishly at her while standing unsteadily on the opposite couch, the cushions buckling under his weight. Surprise chokes the words out of her mouth and instead she stares at him blankly, eyes darting between one of the Rebellion’s prized heroes and their best friends’ son. 

“Uh, hey Jyn,” Cassian offers lamely. “Care to join us?” 

Jyn blinks once, twice, three times, before the shock dissipates from her face.

“Sure,” she shrugs, and sets down the datapad she’d been carrying. “How do I play?” 

When the Damerons come back home they are greeted by the sight of Cassian, Jyn, and Poe all curled up in a pile on a couch, fast asleep.


	3. Please?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 300 word limit + "please don't do this."

“Please don’t do this.”

The words tumble out of Cassian’s mouth without care or concern for bystanders. His heart claws its way up his throat, pounding with an intensity that drowns out the roar of engines and calls for aid. He pays it no attention, alarm burning in his chest, brighter than that sector’s lone star setting on the horizon. His entire existence is focused on the form sprawled across the stretcher.

Red, red, so much red. Cassian assumed, after a lifetime of fighting, he’d get used to the rich colour of blood. Splattered on walls, pooling on the ground, caked under his fingernails, staining his clothes. But it lingers at the edge of his vision, a messy streak painted by the hand of fate, shining starkly against the cleanly pressed white of bedsheets.

He should be used to it, but it terrifies him.

“Jyn? Please, stay with me.”

There’s no response. He shouldn’t be expecting one, with her eyes shut to the universe and ears deaf to his voice, but he tries anyways.

Cassian fears he never worried enough for her. Jyn hid her fragility behind icy glares, but now she lies like a sleeping child, impossibly tiny and impossibly  _broken._   

The stretcher begins rolling, pushed along by a medic who has more things to worry about than a frazzled man hunched over a woman whose life was bleeding out by the second, but that man is Cassian Andor and that woman is Jyn Erso, so he lets Cassian hold Jyn’s hand as it bounces lifelessly along with the squeaky wheels of the stretcher.

Cassian doesn’t let go.

He has hope.


	4. Scent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 300 word limit + "you smell really nice" requested by @dasakuryo

The rhythmic, even, clunk-clunk-clunk of stormtroopers marching past rumbles through the air, armour clinking as boots hit metal floors. The sounds get louder and louder as they near, and despite knowing that they are perfectly hidden in the storage closet, Jyn presses closer to Cassian and buries her face in his side.

They’re still as statues, the only sign of life being the rise and fall of Cassian’s breathing that Jyn can feel against her cheek, and the thunderous roar of her heart threatening to leap out of her chest.

_Thump, thump, thump._

Jyn tries to calm her nerves by blocking out the noise and thinking of other things: what she can see (not much, not with the scant light offered by the corridor peeking under the door), what she can feel (Cassian, close and warm and steady against her body), and what she can… smell? She’s expecting the mustiness of an unused closet, not the cleanliness of regulation soap and an unidentifiable yet soothing warmth. Something natural, not artificially sweet like the perfumes the Coruscanti wear.

She looks up at Cassian in surprise. He looks down at her, eyelashes catching some of the dim light.

“What?” he breathes. “Are they gone?”

She blinks. “I…uh… You smell really nice.”

He doesn’t reply immediately and Jyn internally winces at her stupidity. What was she _doing_?

Cassian laughs, a soft, singular exhale. Her heart thrums, and this time it isn’t because of the long-gone stormtroopers, whose feet now echo fainter and fainter in the distance.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, and Jyn leans away from him, strands of hair still clinging to the front of his uniform.

A small reprieve from the war, a flicker of light in the darkness.  _Maybe one day._

And then they’re gone.


	5. Sleepless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 300 word limit + "I can't sleep without you here" requested by @christiekerying

Endor leaves them both bruised and battered, with broken bones and broken minds.

Someone, either knowingly or by coincidence, wheels their beds into the same room of the medbay. Their bodies heal within arm’s reach of each other. Except for the occasional medic making their rounds – in and out like a daydream, offering a few soft words of encouragement – they are alone.

Alone, but together.

When bacta loosens its grip from their consciousness, the taste fading from their tongues, they are faced with a new sort of terror: the shadows of lives lost in the night.

Cassian develops the habit of listening, ears tuned to the regular inhale and exhale of Jyn’s breathing in the opposite bed. When it hitches, an invisible nightmare’s hands at her throat, he’s there. When Jyn is awoken by the sound of rumpling bedsheets, she tests the chill of the tiles with her toes and wordlessly slips into bed beside him.  

Physical injuries heal faster, and the medics dismiss them with a smile and an appointment.

“A mandatory visit with the therapist,” the medic looks pointedly at Jyn. “I believe the Major may find himself there more often.”

Cassian does, and it helps, but for three nights he lies awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling, praying that the medication will kick in.

On the fourth night, there’s a gentle rap at the door.

Jyn’s slight figure stands in the frame of the doorway, dark crescents hugging the underside of her eyes.

“You’re awake.” She keeps her voice flat, the desire to confess reigned in by the expectation that she’ll be turned away.

Cassian swallows, throat dry. “I can’t sleep without you here,” Cassian admits, rather hesitantly. Jyn masks her relief with a brisk nod, and obliges.


	6. Childish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> drabble + "If that makes me a child, so be it." requested by @dasakuryo

Cassian thrusts a brightly coloured bunch of  _somethings_  in her face.

“Here,” he says, looking away. 

Jyn blinks rapidly, startled. Her right hand curls over Cassian’s for a fleeting moment - tentatively lacing her fingers between his before he jerks away, freeing his grip - she finds herself holding the cool, green stems of…

flowers?

She pulls the bouquet away from her face and inspects it closely. Dew clings to some of the petals and drips down her hand. She pays it no attention, dropping the datapad in her other hand onto the mattress and gently runs her fingertips over the petals. Violet deep as space, with streaks of white like stars; orange brighter than the fabric of flightsuits; and thick, glossy petals that are a hearty, vibrant yellow.  

“Flowers,” she whispers in disbelief, leaning forward to get a waft of their scent. She turns to Cassian, who abruptly stops watching her closely. “You…?” 

Cassian looks distressed, as if she was an Imperial digging for rebel secrets. “Picked them, yes. I don’t know, we were outside, and I saw them, and…” he looks away, hand working nervously at the bedsheets.

Jyn’s eyes are fixed on him now, not the flowers, but her mind is somewhere else. “I used to pick flowers as a child…” she starts, and in her mind she’s holding a handful of the tiny blue blooms of Lah’mu. 

Cassian’s shoulders tighten. “Well, if this makes me a child, so be it. I’ll…” 

Jyn sits up, a flush spreading across her face. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that - Cass, look at me.” She lifts a hand to his chin. He turns towards her, but pointedly avoids eye contact. “They’re beautiful. I haven’t… even  _thought_  about flowers since both of my parents were alive. That’s what I meant.” 

“Oh.” Cassian looks even more pained than before, if Jyn could even believe it was possible. She nuzzles her face into his neck instead, holding the bouquet close. 

“We really need to work on this, don’t we,” Cassian muses.

Jyn’s voice is muffled. “Don’t worry. We have the time.” 


	7. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (1+5) sentence fic + "Is that comfortable?", Cassian asks her, face scrunched slightly with concern.

“Yeah,” Jyn tries to reply as casually as she can, but the pain manifests in her strained, feeble voice and the wince she’s unable to suppress when Cassian shifts beside her. 

“I can sleep on the floor, you know,” he adds gently, his hand hovering over Jyn’s heavily bandaged torso - torn between the need to reassure and the fear of aggravating her injuries. 

She shakes her head with a sigh, dark hair splaying across the pillow in loose fractals. “No,” she insists, mustering all her energy to do so, and gazes at Cassian - the brightness in her eyes contrasting the dark purple bruise that bloomed across her jawline.

“I…. I’m more comfortable with you here beside me.”


	8. Rainyday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (1+5) sentence fic +"this is a whole new level of ridiculous"

Cassian frowns, water dripping from his hair onto his face as he wrings his sopping wet jacket, adding: “If I had known we would need to escape like this, I would’ve brought a raincoat.”

“Of course,” Jyn grumbles, taking off her own jacket in the futile hope that shaking it faster would make it dry more rapidly, “I just forgot to check the weather report,” and she pauses to imitate the droll voice of the HoloNet announcer: “there is a 99% chance of a broken water pipe in today’s forecast.” 

Cassian grins, and it only grows at the endearing sight of Jyn collapsing to the floor with an agitated huff, her neglected jacket ballooning around her as it falls to the ground.

“What?” she snaps at him.

“Nothing,” he replies dismissively, knowing that it wasn’t the case. 


	9. Blossom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (1+5) sentence fic + "Is that real?"

“What do you mean?” Cassian asks with a tilt of his head, hair just sweeping across his eyes. 

“That,” Jyn repeats, “That flower - I’ve never seen anything like it.” Cassian follows the path of her pointed finger and, eyes narrowing, he spots the offending specimen: a burst of soft, pink petals with delicate, almost invisible veins. 

He grins and he frees the flower from its nest in the leaves with a slight snap, elaborating when he sees Jyn’s startled expression: “they’re native here on Yavin IV - here.”

Cassian lifts it to Jyn’s face, rather shyly, and she snatches it away to quickly tuck into her hair with a pin, mumbling out a bashful “thank you.”


	10. Careful!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (1+5) sentence fic + "careful! don't get too close."

Jyn scoffs: “you know, I haven’t met a tooka-cat that didn’t like me.”

Cassian suppresses a smile. “I don’t doubt it, Jyn, not with your wonderful personality,” she scowls in response, “but I don’t want you to risk it - we can’t afford you getting all scratched up on this mission.” 

Jyn holds his gaze for one stretched out moment before turning her lips down into a pitiful pout: “come on, Cass.”

He really tries holding a frown for as long as he can, but Jyn weaves her way past his defenses and he sighs:

“Alright.”


	11. Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (1+5) sentence fic + "is this your first time too?"

“No,” Jyn splutters and when Cassian continues to give her that look of his, she relents with a “maybe.” 

“You know, considering you grew up near a beach I thought you’d know how to swim.” Cassian’s voice is strained from the effort of keeping his head above the waves as he pushes his way to the shore. 

Jyn says something but with a mouth full of salt water Cassian can’t understand a thing, and prompts her to repeat herself. 

“I hate you,” she says, stumbling to the shore, only for Cassian to yank her back in.


	12. Escapes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 300 word limit + "do you wanna get out of here"

Jyn rolls her eyes with an exasperated sigh, teasing a few loose strands of hair away from her face.

“You do,  _don’t you_?” Cassian repeats, his frown growing more prominent. “Or do you want to rot away in this awful cell?” 

Jyn looks up at him through her eyelashes, trying to get a read on the stranger - a so-called ‘friend of your father’s’. All the more reason to distrust him.

His jailer uniform is pressed a little  _too_  neatly and fits him a little  _too_ well. There’s an intensity that burns in his eyes, something that Wobani should have snuffed out by now.

She pulls her lip down between her teeth as she considers his offer. 

“What do  _you_  want from me?” she asks.

Cassian’s lips curl into the outline of a smile. He leans forward, just enough to occupy most of her vision, far enough to give her some breathing space – and protect himself from attack.  

 

“Are you familiar with your father’s work?” he drawls. 


	13. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 300 word limit + “I need you to talk to me.” requested by @dasakuryo

“Cassian. Cassian -  _please.”_

Jyn sucks in her breath, holding it in an attempt to quash the fears stirring in the base of her stomach. 

“Cassian,” she murmurs. She lifts her hands, hesitates, and drops them to her sides, falling back into her seat on the floor. 

He is deaf to her repeated entreaties.  

She’s used to losing Bodhi like this, she’s used to losing  _herself_ like this. Cassian, however, is steady like no other. He grounds them all, their seemingly invincible tether to sanity.  _He_  is always the one to spring into action, shedding his impassive façade as soon as a soldier retreats into themselves, falling prey once again to long forgotten horrors.

Somehow, he always knows exactly what to do: gently coaxing Bodhi out of the fog of his lost memories, reassuring Jyn that she won’t be left behind for what feels like the millionth time.

So, when it happens to  _him_ , Jyn is at a loss.

The part of her that isn’t fixated on his eyelids – squeezed shut and locking him inside his own mind - wonders what caused it.

She suspects it was the snow, now clinging to her clothes and tracked in as puddles on the durasteel floors. The flakes tangling in her hair, their coldness rendering her cheeks red – the icy signature of Hoth, an echo of his homeworld.

> _“I’ll be fine,” Cassian told Draven, Leia, Jyn. “It’s not like I’ve never been to a snowy planet since-”_

The memory is breath in cold air, drifting to a death in the white sky.

He gasps, a strained whistle of air between clenched teeth.

“Cassian? Can you hear me?” 

A heartbeat. Two. No answer.

She flinches, wonders if she should hail a medic – shifts to do so and then:

His hands ensnare hers.


	14. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 20 (things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear) requested by @dasakuryo

He breathes it into her shoulder, a confession far more vast than the three short words that encapsulate it - all cut short by his final, ragged breath. Then the light takes them both.


	15. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4 (things you said after you kissed me) requested by @dasakuryo

“Sorry,” he breathes, “I-” 

Jyn shakes her head, almost imperceptibly. They’re still close enough her nose just grazes his cheek. “It’s-”

“No, I should’ve-” Jyn raises a finger to shush him.

“They’re gone. Let’s go.” 


	16. Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6 (things you said under the stars and in the grass)

“Jyn,” he murmurs. 

She tears her gaze away from the single break in the tree canopy that lets the light of a million stars filter through the night air. 

Jyn hums an acknowledgement as she studies Cassian’s face. Mere inches from hers, the light of the distant bonfire flickers over his profile, setting it aglow with a brightness she’d never seen before. The grass caresses both his face and hers, nighttime dew clinging to the blades for dear life. 

“I know this is early, and there’s still more work to be done,” he begins. 

She returns to staring at the sky, at the patch of space the Death Star II occupied a couple of hours earlier, now overrun by its remains.

 _Stardust,_  she thinks. 

“The war isn’t over yet,” he continues.

Something flickers in the base of her abdomen. Jyn continues to watch the gold haze creep across Endor’s atmosphere.

“We might be sent off in different directions.”

She scoffs gently. “I hope not,” she whispers. 

Cassian rolls to his side to face her. 

“I hope so too.”

She shifts to look at him again, and for a solid moment they’re just looking at each other intently. Her hair is splayed across the ground, tangling in the wet mess of forest undergrowth.

She doesn’t really care, not when he’s looking at her like  _this._

“And?” she breathes. She can make out the outline of Cassian’s throat bobbing as he swallows.

“We have a chance. Let’s take it,” he says.

The flutter in her stomach shifts to her pounding heart. 

“Okay.” 


	17. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 17 (things you said that i wish you hadnt) requested by @jeeno2

“Don’t leave me,” he croaks, delirious from pain and hastily administered painkillers.

Jyn flinches at Cassian’s strained voice and glances up from where she’s trying to secure him - a difficult task while the stolen shuttle dips and shudders in its attempts to jump to hyperspace. 

She can’t escape his hurt look but tries to anyway, returning to the task at hand. Jyn’s reminded of a child -  _the_  child on Jedha, the one she wiped tears away from her dirt-streaked face, only for her homeworld to be destroyed moments later. 

The same forlorn expression faces her once again.

“Please,” he gasps. He grapples aimlessly at the sides of the bunk. She has a feeling he won’t be conscious much longer - perhaps he was already losing his grip on the present, already slipping into the darkness of his past.

It’s more than likely, considering Cassian would never willingly let his tongue slip like this. 

She fastens the last of the belts in place before shuffling over to kneel beside his head. Cassian tracks her movement with increasingly droopy eyes.

Jyn feels a tug at her heart.

She  _doesn’t_  want to leave him, not like this. But she knows once they land, he’ll be carried off to a bacta tank and she will be dragged away to a medic and later, a debrief. 

After which, her fate will be up to herself. As always.  

The Rebellion isn’t home, despite Cassian’s best efforts at convincing her otherwise. They’d send her off with a helping of credits and a one-way ticket to a planet of her choosing. She’ll be off on her own once more. 

At least, it’s what her mind tells her to do.

She looks down at Cassian again, his eyelids fluttering shut. There’s a smudge of dirt streaking along his jawline, and a small cut on the side of his forehead, a tiny arc shaped like a crescent moon. She cups his head in one hand, and gently runs her thumb across his jaw to wipe the dirt away.

He sighs shakily. 

Her heart, however, wants something else.

She works her fingers through his hair, smoothing it out in the hopes it’ll ease him into a peaceful sleep. 

If only he hadn’t actually  _asked_  her to stay.

She leans over him, strands of hair falling free and grazing the side of his face. It’s clear he’s finally slipped into unconsciousness for pain has lost its grip on his features, leaving them gentle in a way she’s never seen before. 

“I’m here,” she murmurs, reassured by the knowledge that he can’t hear her. “Always.” 


	18. Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 23 (things you said after you finished your favorite dish that I made for you)

Jyn scrapes away at the bottom of the bowl with her fork, partly out of habit and partly because it was just that  _good_. When the fork proves useless she sets it to the side and tears off a chunk of bread, sweeping it around the sides of the dish to scoop up every last morsel.

As a final touch, she licks her fingers.

Only then does she make eye contact with Cassian. He gives her a crinkly-eyed smile over the rim of his glass. 

“Enjoyed it?” 

She nods, enthusiasm increasing with every bob of her head. Jyn drapes her napkin back down over her knees and leans back in her chair.

“You look like you want to say something.”

She arches an eyebrow at him, one hand reaching for her glass of water.

“You’re holding tension in your body.” He sets his glass down.

She rolls her eyes. 

“Cassian, you’re retired. Please save the analysis for someone else.”

“Is that what you wanted to say? Because I haven’t forgotten - oh look, now my knee is aching. And is that grey hair I see in my reflection?” He lifts up an unsuspecting spoon to carefully examine his face in its curvature. 

Jyn laughs. 

“Don’t worry, it hasn’t ruined your looks.” 

“Thank you,” he chuckles.

“…yet,” she adds, with a malicious grin. Cassian’s lips twitch down into a pout.

“Seriously?” 

“I’m kidding. Not like it matters either way.”

She stands, taking her bowl and his, and makes her way to the sink. The scrape of chair legs on wood indicate that Cassian has followed her, and soon enough his arms are looped around her waist.

“Really?” he murmurs into the crook of her neck.

“Really. Now,  _move,”_  she says, with a flick of the towel in her hand. Cassian jumps back.

“Alright!” he backs away. “But… you want to ask me something. What is it?”

She looks up at him from the dishes and the sound of running water.

“I want a cat,” she says.

“A cat?” His forehead wrinkles, wondering at what one might do with a cat. 

“A tooka-cat. I had a toy as a kid,” she says nonchalantly, scrubbing at the dishes. She hands one over to Cassian and he begins wiping it dry.

“Okay…” he drawls. “Okay. I can’t believe you’ve become a crazy cat lady.”

She flicks a wet hand in his direction, spraying water in his face.

“Unfair!” he crows. “I am defenseless!”

“Really?” she asks, watching Cassian set the last dish in the drying rack.

“Really.” 

He leans forward and kisses her on the forehead.

Jyn grins at him, touching the tip of her thumb to his chin. “I also had a snow lizard…” 

His protest is drowned out by another kiss.


	19. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  18 (things you said when you were scared) requested by @dasakuryo

"Cassian?”

Her voice is no more than a strained exhale, pinched by stress and pain. 

“Yeah?” 

He responds in kind, his affirmation so quiet it teeters on the cusp of nonexistence. “Does it hurt?” 

She shakes her head, strands of hair normally tucked neatly behind her ear falling loose and framing her face. 

Cassian knows this is all a pretense. He had glimpsed the injury, knows that the pain squeezing her voice and written in her eyes is no exaggeration. It rattles him as much as her: Jyn breathes shallow and rapid, the shaky breaths of someone trying to hold it all in. 

And failing. 

“Jyn-”

“Leave it,” she hisses.

“We’ve gotten out of worse.”

She peers at him through the slits of light between her bangs. Bites her lip. 

“We’ve gotten out of worse,” she repeats, sullen. 

He’s worried, and he’s worried it’s showing in his expression. Cassian forces a smile and a lighthearted question through his teeth: “As if a set of cuffs and a cell door can stop us, right?” 

He’s pushing and he knows it. 

But he’s equally terrified of losing her - pushing her away - and  _losing_  her. His fears worsen when Jyn squeezes her eyes shut.

She swallows hard. Sighs once, a dramatic heave of her chest. 

“Right,” she chokes out with a sense of finality, her hands curling to fists behind her back. “I just-”

He shakes his head, and shuffles over as best as he can with hands and feet bound tightly. His knees ache in protest as they scrape across the motley durasteel - but then he’s beside her. Close enough to see the scratch along the side of her face, the dirt streaks on her forehead. Close enough to feel her body heat -  

to feel her tremble.

She’s unsteady, and so is he.

“Jyn. We’ll get out of here, alright?” 

His voice is a murmur in her ear and he wishes he can do more. An insatiable  _need_  claws its way up his chest: to gently tuck the hair out of her eyes, caress her face in his hands -

not like he’d ever done it while his hands were free. 

She doesn’t shy away from his proximity, and nods brusquely as if she was convincing herself. 

“We’re together, okay? It-” he swallows back the statement.  _It could’ve been worse_ , he wants to say,  _we could be in separate cells,_ but fear - superstition - chokes the words out of his throat.

Jyn seems to sense his agitation and leans towards him. He catches her with his shoulder, holds her in the curve of his neck, tucks his chin over her head.

Her eyes flutter shut.

When the guards open the door to haul them away, they find the duo burrowed against each other, ready for whatever comes next.


	20. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "never stop smiling" requested by @dasakuryo

It happens in slow motion. 

Her lips twitch, the situation tugging at the corners of her mouth. The smile unfurls before his eyes, like the wishblooms of his childhood home. It’s a sly smirk that grows into a broad grin that feels, at least to Cassian, like the instant the sun frees itself from the embrace of the horizon and rises into the sky with its early morning glory.

Like daybreak. 

His heart thunders against his ribcage and he feels his chest tighten.

The last time he’d seen her smile, he had thought it would be the last. Wind whipped around them on the data tower as ships screeched by, lasers piercing through the air.

There, she had smiled, both resigned and hopeful - a bittersweet grin of a successful mission that had been paid for by their own blood.

There, for the first time he could remember, he felt a sharp pang - a short-lived flutter of want, followed the more familiar cloud of acceptance. 

_I wish I could see that smile again._

A soldier, a spy, has only one companion: the grim statistics of reality. 

_I can’t. I won’t._

Hope lanced through his heart, painful and breathtaking. For once, a greedy hope for himself -

_I want to._

So when their ship escapes the clutches of Scarif’s atmosphere, hurtling itself into hyperspace, he looks to Jyn. 

She grins, the aura of glory emanating from her exhausted form as she breathes a  _we made it_  into his ear.

He nods once and it hurts. He can feel the tugs of darkness at his eyelids, and adrenaline runs dry in his veins, making it hard to breathe.

Jyn’s smile falters, and she moves to catch his side.  _We’re okay_  she mumurs, worry pulling down at her lips.

Exhilirated, delirious, untethered but also moored in a way unlike anything he’d ever felt, he mumbles:

“ _Never stop smiling.”_

She arches a questioning eyebrow at him, but her eyes remain clear of confusion. Filled with the understanding of a soldier.

Jyn smiles. 


	21. Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @dasakuryo who wanted "one of them stepping on dry leaves on purpose so they crack and the other reacting? Or something involving dry leaves+cuteness?"

The branches sway gently, rocking to and fro to the melody of some unheard lullaby. Leaves ripple in the wind, shifting from deep emerald to vibrant yellow, lingering at warm orange then culminating in brilliant red. 

Jyn leans on Cassian’s shoulder as they walk.

He smiles down at her, his lips grazing her hair as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. His scarf flutters gently in the wind, grazing the front of Jyn’s light jacket, and she laces her fingers in his.

She had never stayed on a planet long enough to witness the shifting colours of fall. Jyn had seen similar colours adorn trees before, but she had never had the patience - or was it the  _luxury_ \- to observe the change, to bear witness to the wind easing dead leaves off their branches to paint the skies before twirling to the ground at the end of their lives.

She can, now, and it is beautiful.

Jyn suspects it’s something her mother would have enjoyed. Something flutters in the base of her heart to think of Lyra- Jyn’s memories of her are few and far between, and even those that remain are dim, but the soothing rustle of leaves whisper a promise:

this is where her mother lives on, in the science and beauty of nature. 

Cassian’s grin fades a little at the somber look on Jyn’s face. He recognizes her expression, the one of shadows cast by long-forgotten memories, so he tugs her closer.

She finds herself grappling at the loose fabric on his back, fingers curling into the soft grey felt.

They make their way towards a path dappled with light, where the trees form an arch above their heads, selectively letting sunlight filter through to the ground. Here the leaves succumbed to the cold much earlier, and there are more on the ground than in the trees. It’s the point in the season where they are still crisp, still spared from rainfall, so Cassian’s boot sets down with a loud crunch.

His lips twitch and he looks down to Jyn. 

Her face is practically buried into his arm and thus he feels her feel her lips unwillingly blossom into a smile.

Cassian exaggerates his next step, flicking his toes up to kick reddish-orange leaves into the air.

Jyn pulls away from his arm, laughing.

“What was that for?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. 

She shakes her head, strewing strands of hair about her face. Jyn’s arm slips down from his upper arm to his hand, loosely holding it as she imitates his kick, sending a shower of orange and brown into the air.

“The crunch is more fun, no?” Cassian suggests with a sly smile.

“ _Aye,_ Captain.”

Jyn tugs on his hand, pulling herself along in an arc and stepping off the path into the depths of the leaves. They crunch underneath her boots, but soon enough she’s so far deep in the pile that they spill over the tops. 

Cassian looks at her, eyes lined with a mix of awe and moritfication - what has he done?

She grins and kicks up her feet, sending a shower of leaves in Cassian’s direction.

“Come on, now,” she says, jutting her chin and tugging at his arm. 

“Me?”

“Yes,  _you.”_  She tugs and he relents, letting his arm go slack. He tumbles towards her and Jyn miscalcuates her own strength, pulling Cassian down with her into the leaves. The leaves crackle under their combined weight, rustling as Jyn struggles to sit up. 

In a fit of inspiration, Cassian pulls her back in.

“What are yo-” Jyn’s voice is cut off by a splutter as she brushes a leaf from her mouth. “Why-”

“You started it,” Cassian says with all the seriousness of a briefing.  _Yes, General Draven, Lieutenant Erso was the one who pulled me into a pile of leaves, and the best course of action was to retaliate by dragging her back in._

Jyn’s nose wrinkes as she sits up in the pile, Cassian’s arms still circling her waist. “No, actually, it was  _you,_ starting it by kicking the leaves.”

He looks at her with mock indignation, eyebrows cast upwards in an expression of innocence. “I would  _never-”_

His protests are muffled by a fistful of leaves to the face. Cassian falls back in surprise, freeing Jyn, who then scoops up leaves by the armful. The pile teetering between her arms grows so high leaves spill over, clinging to the fabric of her sleeves.

“This is  _unfair,”_ he protests, scrambling to his feet.

“Too bad,” Jyn smirks, letting the leaves rain down on his head before he could stand. “You should’ve thought this through.”


	22. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @dasakuryo requested "rebelcaptain+cold+snow+numb fingers" 2-in-1 prompt for Christmas (when this was posted on tumblr)

* * *

 

**_snow:_  the everyone lives AU.**

* * *

 

Lighting is odd on Hoth.

Jyn carefully tiptoes around the half-melted slush pooling around Cassian’s scuffed boots as she makes her way across his room.

The air glows. It emanates from the windows, seeping through the coverings and fills the small quarters with dim light. It’s not as harsh as one would expect: the world of bright, brilliant, white outside is gently filtered into a dull grey haze, casting shadows on the opposite wall as Jyn slips into his bed. 

The sheets settle around her - the thin ones on her bed are far from satisfying, and Cassian’s bed has the added benefit of a thick blanket he’s kept through all these years.

And his body warmth, of course.

She rolls to her side, facing him now, and realizes he’s managed to stay asleep the entire time. His side rises and falls with his breathing, and Jyn can make out his thin frame through the blankets.

Her gaze pulls back towards his face. The wind screeches wildly outside, whipping the snowfall into dizzying patterns that cause the greyness of the air to ebb and flow, highlighting his features in scintillating light. Cassian’s forehead is free of the creases that seem perpetually etched during the day. With his eyes shut - hiding the depths that Jyn had not yet fully unearthed - he looks more peaceful than she’d ever seen him. His lips are still pulled down, though, and his face is still too pale from too many sleepless nights.

The days where his eyes are bright and a lively smile hangs loosely from his lips are becoming less and less rare - but things never felt completely alright. As long as there was still a fight for Cassian Andor to be fighting, Jyn doubts that it ever will.

She hopes to live to see the day when it does. 

For now, she watches. Suddenly feeling self-aware of her indulgence, and even more uncomfortable at the prospect of moving and jolting him awake, she freezes.

It’s silent for the sound of their breathing and the gentle hush of snow falling. 

Carefully, reverently, she brushes the hair out of his eyes, and slowly begins to run her hand through his hair. Cassian’s breath hitches for a terrifying moment, but he stays asleep. 

Her hand moves to the time of her breathing and eventually Cassian’s expression begins to soften. It barely registers in Jyn’ mind, though, because she’s lulled herself to sleep.

* * *

A few hours later - Cassian’s eyes are still too droopy to make sense of the blue haze of the chrono - he lists awake to feel the weight of Jyn’s arm looped carelessly over his shoulder.

He smiles, faintly, pulling her closer, not wanting her to roll away, leaving him in the cold.

Here they are warm.

Here, they are safe.

* * *

**_cold:_  the modern AU (because it’s christmas)**

* * *

 

The door swings open, letting a rush of cold late-December air into the restaurant.  The wind chimes ring noisily as the waiter closest to the door calls out a cheery thanks and best wishes for the holidays as Jyn and Cassian step out. 

Jyn shoves her hands into the depths of her pockets, and once again curses her forgetful self for leaving her trusty gloves at home.

“You can take my mittens,” Cassian says for the umpteenth time, voice muffled by his hood.

“’s alright,” she replies in kind, around the scarf covering her mouth. “This jacket’s cozy enough.”

“Okay.” 

They trudge along in the slush, the snow from the night before having been scooped early that morning, but soon followed by the barrage of snowflakes floating down from the sky and collecting in Jyn’s hair.

She harrumphs as she kicks at a stubborn clump of frozen snow.

She tries not to think too hard about the red-and-white lights curling around the columns of the homes they walk past.

It’s her second Christmas without her father, and she’s not quite sure what to make of it.

Just under two years since that horrible downpour, a memory that only evokes the saltiness of tears on her cheeks being rapidly washed away by the rain coming down in sheets. The blood on her clothing smearing on Cassian’s jacket as he pulled her away, screaming for her to come to her senses.

She shivers, her jacket seemingly too big.

A year after she’d realized the look in Cassian’s eyes was sorrow, not indifference. That his pleas were reasonable, that he’d been right - 

she hadn’t been fully wrong, either, and he’d known. So he had waited, almost a year, for things to fall back into place. 

And here they are.

“You okay?” 

She hums an affirmative. “The food was great. I’m too full though.”

“Same. But not too full for dessert,” he chuckles, and she grins. He runs a mittened hand through his hair, then, shaking out the flakes that had begun to accumulate. 

It’s nighttime and the snowfall is still light enough that the sky is pitch black, save for hazy spots where streelights illuminate the falling flakes. 

Jyn tries hard not to stare at the flakes settling on Cassian’s eyelashes.

There, another memory - 

_She’d seen him cry exactly once._

She remembers the bench now, the luminous white of sunset during wintertime, the gentlest of breezes sending snow down from the branches.

Jyn had asked him about his experience with snow, and he’d smiled gently at first.

“It kind of looked like this, you know. All white, everywhere, regardless of what time of day it was. My mother would take me over to Urubici in the wintertime just to see it.”

“You’ve lived in Brazil?” 

He nods. “For a time. After…” he sighs, and falls silent.

“You know everything about me,” Jyn says thoughtfully, idly carving a hole in the snow with the heel of her boot. “How my mother died, my father died, and everything in between and after. I mean, I’m not forcing you or anything, but if you want to share I’m- I’m listening.”

Cassian nods, and blows out a slow breath.

“We’d moved after my father’s death. He had wound up on the wrong end of a gun, you know.” He smiles, then, all teeth and no life. “Words are as sharp as swords but the person wielding them is not, unfortunately, bulletproof.” 

Jyn remembers the rainstorm and her own losses, and refuses to press further. But he continues, anyways.

“So my mother packed up and left for our own safety, moved somewhere where she had family so we could put our lives back together. Then when she felt ready enough, we moved again.”

“Here?”

He nods. “She-she was really looking forward to seeing the snow, you know. The real, proper experience.  _It will come for us, Cass,_  she said,  _we will not have to go looking for it.”_

Jyn’s hand had moved to seek out his then, grasping it firmly at the sight of the glimmer in his eyes.

“She didn’t make it. We got here in April and she was gone by October.” 

At some point something breaks, and Jyn curls up into his side, feeling the dampness on her clothes.

* * *

Jyn looks at Cassian now, wearing a real smile as he looks curiously at her.

“What?” she snaps halfheartedly. 

“Nothing. I- look, we’re almost home. I mean, to your house.”

Jyn looks up, only now realizing they’d already wound up at the beginning of her street.

She muffles back a groan, not wanting him to leave but also wanting to warm up her stiff fingers. She glares pointedly at the car - Cassian’s - sitting in her driveway.

“You know what. Come inside. I don’t want you driving with numb fingers,” she says.

He smirks. “I’m fine. Mittens, rember?”

He wiggles his hands in the air, then frowns.

“Though my toes are freezing.”

Jyn arches an eyebrow gleefully.

“Then come inside.”

They go up the steps together, stomping with the agression needed to kick the hard-packed snow off their boots.

But small talk doesn’t last very long and soon enough they’re inside, Jyn’s fingers stinging as they regain warmth, minuscule flecks of water forming around her feet. Her house is cold and empty, save for the glow of her neighbour’s gold-and-blue Christmas lights coming in through the window.

Fear barges its way into her mind as she watches Cassian zip his boots back up.

She watches him prepare to leave.

It’s an age old fear, dredged back up from too many memories relived in her mind and the stupid, kriffing, snow. 

Always the snow.

And the cold. It eats its way in through every layer, leaving her empty and shivering.

_I can’t watch him leave._

The rain, the snow.

It had orphaned them both.

Cassian straightens, dusting the snow off his mittens. His eyes narrow as they meet hers.

“I’m set to go, Jyn-are you sure you’re okay? Did the spice not sit well with you?”

She wacks his arm.

“That was  _one_  time!”

He grins, and the hand on his arm falls down into his grasp.  _“Don’t go,” she wants to say._

“Jeepers, your hands are  _freezing_ ,” his says, and takes his other free hand to wrap it around hers. “You’re so cold.” 

_“Stay,” she wants to tell him, “keep me warm.”_

“I’ll see you later, then?” Jyn asks instead.

“Yeah,” Cassian replies, and for the first time that night his smile fades. “Later.”

Jyn’s next move surprises not only him but herself, as she wraps her arms around his torso. But he leans into the hug and something about that action gives her the strength to speak.

“This is the first time-”

“I know.”

She turns, cheek resting against his heartbeat. “Thank you.”

He bends down, chin brushing against her forehead. “I’ll come back, alright?” 

“You promise?” 

“I will.” 


	23. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @dasakuryo requested “Just sit down and let me take care of you.” & "you’re not alone. You never were.” from a prompt list

Jyn is a feral tooka-cat: all narrowed eyes and hair strewn haphazardly about her face, hunched over as if guarding the rest of her sanity and flinching at even the smallest movement.

There was a time, before Cassian learned the underlying meanings of her downturned lips and curled fists (before he learned the language of Jyn Erso) after he’d realized there was  _ _something__  between them (not just camaderie, not just shared trauma) where he would have thought  _ _he__  was the reason for her unease.

There was a time when that assumption would have been true.

“Jyn.”

He’s gentler this time, on the verge of cooing, but Cassian knows false sweetness will only send her retreating further.

Not that any sweetness of his would be false - not with her,  _ _never__ with her - but pain has a way of fogging up the brain and distorting one’s sense of reality.

(And a small, cynical, hard-to-melt-down part of him wonders if she really trusts him.)

**“Just sit down and let me take care of you.”**

She mumbles the beginnings of a protest while sluggishly shrugging off his arm. He hesitates before loosening his grip on her, and she groans, plopping unceremoniously on the edge of the bunk. 

He thanks the stars because his voice makes it in through the haze of pain, and he helps ease her stilted movements as she settles onto the edge of the bed. The medkit is already open and perched in his lap, and soon he’s lost in the numbing process of cleaning and dressing wounds.

Jyn does an excellent job of remaining impassive, and someone who didn’t know any better would not realize the magnitude of her hurt. 

Cassian can tell.

“Jyn,” he murmurs.

She looks at him through her lashes. He notices the purple bruising on her cheek.

Like stardust, almost. 

“It’s okay. You’re safe here. You can-you can do whatever you need to.” 

She stares at him blankly and Cassian can’t shake the rolling feeling in the base of his stomach. Had he misjudged her willingness to show weakness?

Then she sighs, leaning into his shoulder, breath curling into the crook of his neck. Her unbandaged arm lies flat on his back, fingers curling into the soft give of his vest. He responds in kind, setting down the medical tape he’d used to keep the bacta patches in place and holds her close.

Hyperspace blurs in the viewport, and all is quiet except for the aches of the aging ship’s poorly healed wounds.

* * *

 

It’s this, oddly, that slices through her mind like a knife, when the square bursts into chaos.

Sparks sting her eyes and smoke fills her lungs, but her body keeps moving, keeps moving, keeps moving. She loses track of the number of beings she shoves past, doesn’t heed the final destinations of the shots she fires back, not until she’s got to him.

She’s with him, now, and she tells him as such. His eyes are shut to the universe and the sheer amount of red dripping between his fingers and spreading across his clothes is enough to freeze her in place, had her mind not been so numb.

Jyn hauls him onto the ship and shouts for Kay to get moving, and for once the droid doesn’t yell anything in return.

She runs on autopilot, just as the ship does, going through all the motions and not feeling any warmth return to her senses until Cassian is sloppily bandaged but breathing and  _ _alive.__

Time stretches for an eternity and passes away in the blink of an eye all at once. The Force-forsaken planet and the harrowing mission are far, far behind them. Jyn’s nerves rattle inside her lungs. 

__Breathe._ _

His head is nestled in her lap, a small reprieve from the sluggish, jolting movements of the ship as it careens towards the base. Reassured by the rise and fall of his chest, she gathers up the strength to inspect him more closely. His lips are pulled down into the beginnings of a grimace, but otherwise his breathing is steady and even.

Somewhere along the line Jyn’s hand had come to rest over his heart. The frayed ends of bandages plastered over his chest prickle at the exposed skin of her wrist peering between her gloves and the cuff of her thinning leather jacket. There, under her palm, she can feel his heartbeat heart through the fabric of his shirt that she’d hastily pulled away earlier.

She sighs, and the shakiness of the sigh surprises her.

Her hand makes a fist over his heart.

There is nobody to curse but fate, nothing to do but wait.

Kay, oddly, decides to leave her alone, and a part of her realizes it might just attest to the seriousness of the situation.

Her mind wanders back to that hazy night.

She’d been in custody for all of five minutes at most, but already the weight of the cuffs around her wrists had dragged her back down into the murky depths of despair wrought by Wobani – and before that, if she was being honest. The fogginess of blood loss got the better of her, and by the time Cassian had found his way back to her, she’d been ten minutes deep into a dark, dark spiral. A silent terror that stripped her of her voice. She’d lost herself, trapped somewhere in a cave where the hatch refused to budge, lost in a dark bunker with no sun on the horizon.

The hatch snapped open only after succumbing to Cassian’s determination.

Jyn feels the temptation to sink back into the same fog, to let the darkness embrace her, but she feels Cassian be pulled from her, and the universe comes back into glaring focus.

She doesn’t leave him, stubbornly so, and her reputation precedes her sharp stare and narrowed eyes. The medics let her in soon enough, and she finds comfort in the rigid chair at his bedside.

It feels like they’ve done this far too many times.

And yet –

It feels like the first time.

Cassian stirs, eyes still shut, and something escapes his lips.

“What was that?” She half-stands in the hopes of hearing him better. Her hand seeks out his and grips it tightly.

He slurs her name again.

“Cassian?”

He squeezes her hand now, tight enough that she looks down to their intertwined hands, then back to his still-shut eyes.

Perhaps a nightmare has reared its ugly head and sunken its fangs into his conscious.

“Oh,” she murmurs, then leans close and cups his face, not too sure what to say.

“You’re safe,” she whispers. “We’re back on base, and we’re fine. I’m fine, and you’re-you’re safe. I’m here.”

He groans a little at that, and Jyn prays she’s said the right thing. Her thumb traces a path down his forehead to his jaw, then pulls away, fearing she’d crossed a line.

 _ _Lead him out of the fog,__  she thinks,  _ _open the hatch__.

What would Cassian do for her?

How did she feel when she was lost?

__Alone._ _

Terrified. Furious at the universe for having left her no one to console her.

Until Cassian had come back for her.

Every time.

“You’re not alone,” she whispers, and she clutches her kyber pendant in one hand. “I’m here. You’re-you’re not alone. You never were.”

Later, when she wouldn’t be looking directly into Cassian’s eyes as they fluttered open, she might think she’d lived out a sappy HoloNet drama.

Now, though, she succumbs to the sense of relief washing over her, and loses all the remaining willpower still holding her walls up.

She smiles gently at him, letting go of the pendant as she leans forward.

He smiles back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's all the prompts I have left on tumblr! Happy New Year to you all!


	24. Requests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @dasakuryo requested “Go back to sleep” for rebelcaptain

 

Jyn studies her laces for a moment before reaching over and undoing them.

Cleaning her boots is a hard-to-break habit from her earliest memories, even before her times with the Partisans. At this point, they’re scuffed beyond recognition and she could use a new pair. Even so, nothing fits quite as comfortably as these and the Rebellion is hard pressed for supplies as it is.

She takes a rag and begins wiping off the dirt, moving in careful concentric circles across the synthhide surface, working by the dim light coming from the cockpit.

There’s something soothing about the methodical process, about watching the lighter layers of dirt disappear to leave behind the darker, original colour of the boots. The ease with which she can toss the dirty old rag, and be done with all the muck. 

The repetitive action is numbing, and if she isn’t careful she loses awareness of her surroundings - which is why she’s cleaning them now, with only the hum of the engine as her company.

It’s not until she’s halfway through the second boot that she realizes Cassian is watching her.

She sets the boot down by her feet with a muffled thud.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

She hears, more than sees, Cassian shift under his blankets. “Shouldn’t you?” His voice is slightly croaky with tiredness yet still retains its endearing quality - perhaps accentuates it. Jyn tries not to dwell too long on that thought.

She points at him with the rag. “One of us is still recovering from a severe back injury, and it isn’t me.” 

“Everyone needs sleep, Jyn.”

The cramped quarters of the ship means if Jyn sits on the edge of her bunk and kicked her feet up, she’d just be able to graze the edge of Cassian’s. It wasn’t an issue, really, but now it means that she can read his features even in the scant combined light of the chrono on the wall and the safety lights streaming underneath the door to the cockpit.

She could call his expression neutral if it weren’t for the slight twinkle in his eye, and - 

Jyn frowns.

“Were you awake the whole time?” 

It’s hard, in the Rebellion, to spot anyone whose eyes are free from dark circles - or whatever a species’ equivalent expression is. But the haggard look on Cassian’s face is relatively fresh, and suddenly she wonders if he’d awoken from a nightmare. 

He’d look untroubled, happy, even, to someone who didn’t know him. When given more than just a cursory glance, though, Jyn can see the strain in his faint smile, and the lines around his eyes are more prominent.

Cassian stays stubbornly silent.

She bites back a groan as she rises off the bunk, the cold of the durasteel floor seeping through her worn socks. Roles reversed, she would’ve done the same thing.

Be stubborn.

Their similarities almost make her want to laugh. She understands his walls for they’re built of the same things hers are, but for the first time she’s on the outside.

For the first time, she wants  _in._

Maybe before she can enter, she has to let down her own walls first.

Cassian tracks her movement across the small space with his eyes, and she wonders if he can read her expression.

“Can I sit here?” 

He nods, and Jyn carefully perches herself on the side of his bunk, careful not to touch him. He scoots over, pressing his right side against the wall.

Jyn realizes she misses his proximity, but doesn’t say anything.

_Stubborn,_  she chides herself, and a slight smile springs to her lips.

“What?” Cassian looks at her between strands of mussed hair, voice partially covered by bedsheets. 

She drops her gaze, hand slowly tracing the side of the bunk, and stopping just beside his elbow. He watches her do so, and in a surprising moment of tenderness, frees his hand to grasp hers - in an imitation of the long weeks post-Scarif.

Jyn meets his gaze.

“Go back to sleep.” 


	25. Royals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @iwearplaids requested "Rogue one (just rebelcaptain or the entire squad) royal au"

 

“Your Highness-” 

Cassian shakes his head, and his advisor falls silent. For one thrilling moment Cassian thinks his trusted friend would  _stay_  quiet, but then Kay adds:

“The likelyhood of this mission going awry is very high, and Jyn of the Partisans hasn’t exactly shown her loyalty to the Kingdom of Fest nor the Families of the Rebellion.”

“I know, Kay.”

“I feared that to be the case, but if you are fully aware and have your wits about you, then my duty here is done,” Kay bows and Cassian nods - his friend leaves the throne room, leaving Cassian alone with the woman in armor. 

He stands, rises from his throne - a paltry thing compared to the throne of the Empire - to meet the woman at face level and ask: 

“How may I trust you?” 


	26. Esperanza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @dasakuryo requested: (from my modern AU)  Mamá Andor realizing there is something happening between Cassian and Jyn (they like each other and she notices the little things that show it)

 

Cassian makes it approximately halfway up the staircase joining the restuarant to their apartment upstairs (two steps past the Creaky Step, to be exact) when his mother calls his name.

“Yes mamá?” he replies without turning around, knowing he’d be incapable of hiding the fearful expression on his face (he is no spy, after all). 

“Turn around,” she says sternly.

He turns, moving down a step as he does so. His mother’s arms are crossed, silouhetted framed by the glow of the emergency light behind the counter. The blood racing through his veins feels like he’s fifteen and had just failed a math test for the first time.

He curses silently.

“Yes mamá?” 

“You left this on your seat.” She hands him his notebook, elastic band firmly secured over the covers.

“Oh,” he replies, eyebrows furrowing together, “thank you. I could’ve sworn-”

“You left it on Jyn’s table, not yours.” 

His stomach has begun to flip-flop hearing Jyn’s name of late, and it performs those same acrobatics as he takes the notebook. (Why? He doesn’t know.) Outwardly, he smiles a little to himself at the table being referred to Jyn’s.

“That’s a good girl. Little hard on the outside, but well-behaved - good work ethic. Her uncle raised her well.”

He nods polietly, fidgeting with the elastic of his notebook. “That’s good to hear.”

She tilts her head, and Cassian feels himself burning under her careful gaze. “I’m glad you brought her and Bodhi in.”

“I’m glad too,” he adds softly, then bites his tongue.

His mother smiles gently. “I know - now, off to bed.”

“Yes mamá.”

He turns and takes the steps two at a time like a child, heart racing until his bedroom door falls shut behind him.


	27. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @riderunlove started (for 1+5) "He had been gone too long"

 

 

Jyn had already begun to fold back into herself, old thoughts of fleeing and desperation rising unbidden to the forefront. She seeks solace under his bed sheets, then his jackets, then his shirts, but too soon all scent and comfort has faded away.

_Only a little longer,_  she hopes, waiting for the familiar footsteps stopping at the door.

_Only a little longer._

She hopes. 


	28. Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "where is she?" for 1+5

The medic steps back, startled, and blinks rapidly at him. They take in the angry red scratches on his face, the blood staining the cuffs of his jacket, and the noticeable limp in his posture before glancing down at their datapad to type in two words - one name:  _Jyn Erso_. 

“Room 37, bed number 2, and you are?-” 

Cassian doesn’t answer, only muttering a brief  _thanks_  as he shoves through the crowd in the med bay, eyes already searching.

_37\. 37. 37._ In the rhythm of his heartbeat.


	29. Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @cats-and-metersticks started: "It's too hot," he said.

 

“Coming from you,” Jyn snaps goodnaturedly as she wipes the back of her hand across her face for the fifteenth time, “that’s a kriffing surprise.” 

Cassian stops, mid trek, and looks askance as he retorts: “Just because I feel colder than most doesn’t mean I’m impervious to, I don’t know,  _40 degrees above freezing._ ”

Jyn grunts, then sighs, setting her hands on her hips where her thin jacket is now tied, the only thing keeping her from taking off her last layer of clothing being sunburn and dignity. 

Cassian’s eyes soften, setting a palm on the small of her back, and Jyn notes how, despite everything, cold his hands are. “C’mon - we’ll be on the ship soon enough, and then you can sit in the A/C while Kay tells us  _he told us so_.” 

Despite everything, she grins. 


	30. Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @grexigone started: "She asks to be with you, for the last time."

Cassian ducks his head and Jyn recognizes the movement instantly - he’s trying to collect himself without Kes seeing, especially not when the other man is already so fragile.

She rests her arm in the curve between his shoulders, rubbing his back, and murmurs: “It’ll be alright - now go, Shara needs you.” 

He lifts his head, and in the fraction of a second it takes for him to blink, the unsteadiness in his gaze is gone.

Cassian presses his lips to Jyn’s forehead - she feels him tremble - then pulls away quickly and nods to Kes. 

“Take me to her.” 


	31. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @deadpanprincess started: "Let go!"

 

 

She almost complies, shocked by the sound of his voice strained with the primal fear she’s only heard when he thinks her life is danger - but that realization only strengthens her grip.

Cassian is taller than she is but Jyn’s taken down opponents twice his size who weren’t lost in the darkness of their pasts, so she manages to wrangle him back to bed, the blaster clutched fervently in his hand clattering to the ground somewhere along the way. 

It bumps against her foot as she perches on the bedside, leaning close to gently brush the hair out of his face. 

“Cassian,” she whispers, half fearful that her voice would only send him back into the depths of his nightmare, “are you with me?” 

He groans, one hand searching for her in the dark, and turns his face into her palm so his lips gently brush against her skin as he replies:

“All the way.” 


	32. Ridiculous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @dasakuryo started: "You're being ridiculous."

“Am not,” Jyn flippantly retorts as she flops across the couch, letting her head fall into Cassian’s lap.

“Yes you are.” Cassian swaps the datapad from his left hand to his right, freeing it to wrap around her waist. 

“Even if I was, you wouldn’t care,” Jyn smirks, reaching up to run a finger across the stubble dusting his jawline, and Cassian relents, setting the datapad aside.

“I win,” she grins into his chest, and he merely kisses the top of her head in response.


	33. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> started “Tell me that you don’t love me” (1+5)

Jyn stares into his dark eyes, intense with urgency and framed by creases of pain. When she moves closer Cassian winces, but then grips her arm hard enough she thinks it might bruise.

“I’ve forgotten how to lie,” she replies, then chokes out, “don’t leave me.”  

She wills herself not to look at the spreading stain on his shirt, nor think about the slick feeling on her palm, but his response twists her gut.

“I’ve forgotten how to keep a promise.”


	34. Lazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TinCanTelephone requested ‘spend the day in bed.’

The slice of light that sneaks between the window covering to fall across her eyes is a little too bright.

Jyn squeezes her eyes tightly, tighter, even tighter. 

The undersides of her eyelids stubbornly remain a bright, hazy pink.

She rolls to her side, left arm flopping over the side of her bed.

No, his bed.

Their bed.

She moves her hand, dragging her palm along the rumpled fabric, fumbling for the magical position that will pull her back to sleep. 

Except the fabric isn’t the bedsheet. 

It isn’t the mattress.

Too squishy.

Too warm? 

Moving? 

She mumbles his name into her right elbow. It comes out like an “nggh?” rather than the Festian word for - 

“Cass?” she tries again.

No response.

The stubborn slit of light grows wider, and Jyn considers pulling the window covering shut with her foot, but that means freeing her leg from under the blanket, which takes energy.

Which she does not have.

Besides, it’s not on her face anymore. The rays dance across her back, slowly warming the parts of her exposed to the world because Cassian had pulled the covers around him in his sleep.

The same sleep returns to her now, gently tugging her in. 

There was a time this would have never happened. She’d have snapped awake as soon as this system’s sun had barely skimmed the horizon. She’d be in the field with Mama, checking inventory with Saw, headed to the mess with Cassian, restocking the ship with Bodhi, but now - 

What’s she doing? 

Right.

“Cassi?”

No response.

She feels the rise and fall of his breathing under her forearm, and wonders if she should even bother waking him.

Wait.

She groans and slowly forces her eyes open.

Peeking through strands of brown hair, she’s greeted by the sight of Cassian’s back, her palm following the curve of his ribcage.

She scoots herself closer, bedsheets wrinkling as the space between them shrinks to nonexistence.

There. 

She hooks her chin in the familiar curve of his neck, eyes drooping shut. She could press her lips there, or fall asleep this instant, but she has to _focus_  - 

“Don’t you have a meeting?” she whispers directly into his ear.

“Cancelled.” 

“Were you awake the entire time?”

“I wouldn’t be alive if I wasn’t.”

“You’re about to be  _not_  alive for taking so long to respond,” she replies, propping herself up by her right elbow. Her right arm snakes across his abdomen and now she’s wrapped him in a one-armed hug. 

“Kill me later. I’m going back to sleep.” 

She lets herself fall back a little before humming to the base of his neck. She can feel his spine under her lips.

“Alright. Later. When we get out of bed.”

“Not today, then.”

Her hand slips away and Cassian rolls with it. His face is mere inches away from hers but Jyn’s eyes are already shut.

“Nope.”

He fumbles for the hem of the blanket, pulling it up to her chest. She snuggles deeper, towards him, grateful for the added warmth.

“Perfect.”

He presses his mouth to her forehead. 

“Good morning, Jyn.”

The last bit of her wakefulness slips into the dark.

“Good day, Cassian.” 


	35. Dine-in?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @dasakuryo requested 'take out'

“What are you thinking?

He shuts his eyes and says the name of the first planet that comes to mind.

“Naboo?” 

Jyn narrows her eyes, humming a tune that she’d lost the words to long, long ago as she scrolls through the file. Cassian opens his eyes, tamping down his grin at the sight of her endearing, focused expression into a mere smile. 

Her lips curve up into what he recognizes as a joke waiting to burst. 

“How ‘bout shaak pot roast?” 

He shakes his head. “Sounds too heavy, I’m not in the mood for - why are you laughing?” 

“The seasonings, get this, there’s one called  _snot_  garlic.” 

Cassian wrinkles his nose and Jyn raises her eyes to regard his expression, grinning as she does so.

“Well  _that_  name didn’t translate well into Basic,” he remarks. 

They’re seated cross-legged on opposite ends of a pull-out couch, the only furnishing in the tiny Coruscanti apartment apart from a table and a chair. They’re seated close enough that Cassian can feel Jyn’s comfortable body heat. He can even see the gold flecks in her eyes when she looks up, but now she’s returned to gazing at the menu and he’s returned to studying the stray lock of hair that’s fallen from its position behind her ear.

“Are we getting only dinner, or should we get something for breakfast? We have to meet our contact pretty early, and this motel doesn’t have room service.”

He nods. “Whatever works.”

Jyn bites her lip and he understands her dilemma. The credits in their proverbial pocket weren’t technically theirs but the allowance Command had allocated for the mission - a hefty one, at least, especially for post-war Coruscant, but neither of the two soldiers were fans of spending credits unnecessarily.

Especially on themselves.

But Dex is one of the best on the planet, and an avid supporter of the Rebellion.

“Apparently he’s famous for sliders,” Jyn muses, “but I don’t want to risk us being sick in the morning.”

Cassian chuckles. “I trust your judgement.” She sneakily raises her eyebrows at him.

“I hope I’m worthy of  _that.”_

She continues scrolling, free hand running along the length of the sofa cushions, then stopping as she asks, “blue milkshakes?” 

“Yes,  _please_.”

“And omelettes for breakfast?”

“With Garto eggs?”

“Yep.” He’s gazing right into her eyes again. “How’d you know?”

“They’re native here.”

“Really? I had no idea anything could, well,  _live_  here,” Jyn says, lips parted. “Are they good?” 

“Not good enough for the high society - which is all I’m familiar with, unfortunately.”

“So… perfect for us.” Her lips melt into a smile that disappears as soon as she resumes fussing over the menu. It’s serious enough her finger begins to twirl the loose lock of dark hair, and Cassian frowns.

“Do they have like, grilled cheese or something? Because, honestly, I’m starving and anything that fills us up is fine by me.”

Her hand stops mid air, and Jyn prods at the screen. Cassian’s thoughts turn to the warm comfort food, and as time passes he really begins to hope they have it.

“Yep! With soup, too. Only five credits.”

“What a steal.” 

When Jyn looks up, he’s chuckling, the fading evening light from the window catching in his smile. 

He catches her staring and is suddenly unsure of what to do with himself. There was a time where they’d both look away out of embarrassment, shyness, or Force knows what else, but now they hold each other’s gaze, truthful smiles still on their faces.

Cassian reaches out and tucks the loose strands of hair behind her ear. Jyn ducks her head, forcing her focus back to her datapad and not the red blush blossming across her face.

“I’ll place the order then.” 


	36. Stares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “People are staring.” - from an anon

Jyn balls her hand into a fist, peering over Cassian’s shoulder to find that, yes, people are indeed staring. She frowns, falling back on her heels. Attention was something neither of them liked nor needed right now, and yet - 

Her eyes dart upward, drawn to his face, and she’s met with his mouth curving up into a slight smirk.

“We’re a bickering couple, of course people are going to stare,” she mutters under her breath, angling herself away from the bemused shopkeeper. “It’s fine, as long as they don’t suspect-”

A flash of light catches her eye, and both of them turn away from the fruit vendor, where they’d been arguing, to catch a glimpse of the pair of stormtroopers making their way through the crowds. 

“You’re right,” Cassian says, louder, shooting a glance over her head at the shopkeeper. He shells out the remainder of their credits to the young woman who flashes them a knowing smile before handing him a small bag of fruit. He quickly returns the smile then gently taps Jyn on the elbow.

She nods at the shopkeeper before raising her arm just enough that Cassian loops his arm through the crook of her elbow and pulls her away from the market square, into an alleyway, then almost steps on her foot as he backtracks.

“What are you doing-” she hisses, pulling him back out of sight of the troopers. They didn’t really need to hide, but if they had drawn as much attention as Cassian suspected, better safe than sorry.

She glances up at him, surprised by the blush dusting his face. 

He ducks his head, jaw working as he fails at retaining a composed expression.

“Don’t turn around.” 

She wrinkles her nose but one thing Jyn’s learned over time is to trust his judgement, so she finds herself staring at the innocuous bag of fruit in Cassian’s grip. The plastic crinkles as they move to the far wall, away from - 

_Ah._

The same heat rises in her face. 

“Did you pull us here on  _purpose?”_ Her face is practically in Cassian’s chest, pressed together to stay out of earshot of the  _other_  couple in the alleyway, not that they would be interested in what they were saying.

Cassian tugs at his collar.

“In all fairness, you were the one-”

“Are they gone yet?”

Cassian ducks his head. “Not anytime soon.”

Jyn resists the urge to whack him.

“The ‘troopers, I mean.”

“Oh.”

He shuffles to the edge of the alley, and leans out.

For a moment, all Jyn can hear is his steady breathing, and a distant boom of thunder. They’ll have to leave the city soon if they wanted to avoid this planet’s awful thunderstorms. 

“They’re gone.” 

Jyn wastes no time in yanking Cassian by the arm, back into the main street, and pretends not to notice the shopkeeper’s chuckle as they hasten their way down the city streets. 


	37. Paprika

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "a short story of Jyn and Cassian doing worldly things after the war... like, I dunno, going grocery shopping."

"Cereal?”

“Got it.” 

“Bread?”

“Got it.” 

“We ran out of paprika last week, I just realized I forgot to tell you.”

Cassian’s voice crackles over the comm, and Jyn adjusts her earpiece before determinedly pushing the shopping cart to the spices section. 

“On it.” 

The store was an average size, big enough to get lost in and small enough that it covered the bare necessities of a variety of species - but not that she was complaining. It meets their needs, and that’s enough. 

The manager, an older Twi’lek woman, was kind enough that she encouraged them to inform her of any inadequacies. They rarely did, but sometimes a birthday or long-forgotten festival would roll by and Cassian would work up the nerve to ask for an ingredient he’d scoured both the store and the HoloNet order forms for to no avail.

As promised, the item would be on her shelves the next week. 

Paprika isn’t one of those rarities, so Jyn hums to herself as she searches the shelves for a container of the spice. The shopping cart buzzes with her, its repulsors humming sweetly.

“I’m done with the fresh food,” Cassian says. “I’ll join you in a sec.”

“’kay,” she says before his connection cuts out. She leans forward, hunching low, before letting out a pleased exclamation as she finds what’s she looking for. 

When she rises, she’s greeted by Cassian pushing his cart up the spice aisle. Jyn grins, raising the container in the air.

“Found it!”

His face breaks into a broad smile.

“Great!”

She sets the container in her cart, the digital counter on the handle inching upwards with the added cost. Jyn loses herself in the numbers staring back at her.

They had enough credits - obviously they had enough, but there was always the small voice in her brain that told her to check. In the beginning the voice was filled with anxiety, and for a long time she couldn’t bring herself to stick anything in the cart that they could survive without. 

Which usually meant she only bought the bare minimum, out of guilt. Even now, she muses, a family unaffected by war - which were hard to find in this galaxy - might think their consumer habits were meager.

But Jyn and Cassian were no longer surviving - they are living.

That’s more than enough for her.

She feels a pair of arms wrap around her torso, and the familiar warmth of Cassian pulling her close to his chest.

“Thinking again?”

She turns her face into his shoulder, lips brushing against the collar of his jacket.

“Yeah.”

He pulls away a little to inspect her face, expression dark with worry, and Jyn suppresses a whine at his sudden distance. 

“Bad things?”

She shakes her head. The worry on his face dissipates. Jyn watches him, a slow smile forming on her face.

“What?” he asks gently.

“Can we get some icing sugar? I just remembered, it’s the neighbour girl’s-” 

“Jaina?” 

She nods. “It’s her birthday tomorrow. We should make her something.”

Cassian grins. “You mean,  _I_ should make her something while  _you_  swipe all the cake batter.” 

She rolls her eyes, unable to repress the broad smile on her face. “I do the icing, remember?” Cassian shoots her a bemused look, moving away to let a family of Rodians through the aisle.

When he steps back towards her, though, he’s still grinning. “Alright.”

She pushes her cart forward and Cassian falls into step beside her with the second cart, pondering aloud over what flavour cupcakes they should make the tween. Jyn grins up at him, letting one hand fall free of the handle, and without looking down, Cassian takes it in his.


	38. Doubles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> send me a title and I’ll tell you the fic to go with it: “Double Meanings” by @mattstarrxfandomimagines

“Fine day for a walk, isn’t it?” 

Cassian utters the code phrase loud and clear. Jyn relaxes, relieved their hidden comms are working, enough to notice the ease with which he makes the remark. It's as if he truly was a wealthy young man without a care in the world. She almost admires him for it, but she knows that ease bothers him more than it would ever rattle her. Jyn sighs.

 **“It’s a little too cloudy for my liking,”**  comes the informant's reply.  _We’re being watched._

Jyn’s hand is already on her holster, and she hisses for Kay to get the ship running.

* * *

“You okay?” she asks, unable to ignore the creases on Cassian’s face that are deeper than usual.

“Yeah,” he replies flippantly, but the small smile he forces is kind. She knows he’s hiding something from her, be it an injury or perhaps hurt of a different kind. She wishes he would just tell her so they could get over it. But she also knows children who grow in the shadows learn to guard every weakness, and she’s not quite sure what she’d do if his hurt wasn’t physical.

Still, she realizes she wants to help him. So when she leaves the cockpit she lets her hand drift to the back of his seat and lingers over his shoulder, fingers brushing against the leather gently. Her hand drops back to her side.

**“I’m going to make us something to eat.”**

* * *

Protocol says  _leave him._

Common sense says  _leave him._

Instinct, experience, training, screams for her to  _leave already._

Even Cassian, ever prepared, had warned her to leave him in this situation if it ever arose.

_“Better one loss than two.”_

That stubborn heart of hers, shaped in her mother’s image and refined by Saw’s gentle touch, softened - strengthened - by the warmth of the rebellion, says  _go back for him._

Better try than regret.

“Why’d you come back for me?”

**“I was never one for following rules.”**

* * *

“Jyn?” 

She hesitates mid turn, bag swinging across her back, the hum of the waiting ship’s engine buzzing in her ears. 

“Yeah?”

Cassian turns his face to the groud, then looks up, almost shyly.  **“Stay safe.”**

She smiles gently.

“You too.” 

* * *

 **“Welcome home,”** she says.

“I missed it,” he replies, and the incredulous look that she gives him, here, on the coldest planet the Rebellion could ever find, shames him into grinning sheepishly and correcting himself.

“You.” 


	39. Stains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> send me a title and I’ll tell you the fic to go with it: "Blood At The Frontlines".

There are some luxuries that few can afford - like showers with actual water.

Cassian had the opportunity to use one a few times while working under a Corellian senator on Coruscant. Water sprung from the showerhead already steaming, and though the scalding temperature did little to wash away the scent of Imperial finery and destruction off his skin, the stinging pain left in its wake soothed his nerves. They’re expensive, and especially scarce in a Rebellion with better places to spend their credits. 

Sonics are the epitome of practicality and the galatic staple. Layers of grime are vibrated off without a single drop of precious water. Cassian can be cleaned in an instant, and for that he is grateful. Anything that saves time saves lives. 

There’s a small part of him, tiny enough that he could pretend it didn’t exist, that misses those luxurious Imperial showers. Not for the warmth offered by humidity, not for water disgusing the rare tear track, but the drumbeat of the shower streams against his skin grounds him. 

To here, now. 

Cassian’s survival hinges on speed: shooting straight, predicting attacks, and catching his thoughts before they spiral into the depths, like - 

_Here, now._

He exhales slowly, focusing on the electric hum of the running sonic. 

_Here, now._

He can hear Jyn rummaging through drawers, the sound of them clanging shut echoing through the ‘fresher walls. The floor of the shower reverberates under his bare feet.

She has no reason to be quiet. They’re back on their ship in the solace of hyperspace where he is the only listener. They’re safe, the safest they’ve been in what feels like months. 

In reality, only days.

_Only_ days.

Days of battle. 

Cassian prefers espionage, surveillance. Battles of the mind, where the most strenous activity would be the worst-case escape, the most kills he can count on one hand. 

Unless - 

He shakes his head.

_Here, now._

The hum of the sonic. 

Sonics are utilitarian. Focused on function, no frivolities like the scented perfume spewed from the costliest of Senatorial showers. Sonics can wash away layers of grime and blood in just an instant, and for that Cassian is grateful.

But part of him aches for the brief reprieve water offers. A warm sanctuary where he can lose himself in the numbing monotony of scrubbing away dirt and glitter and blood. The fleeting closure water offers as it cleanses, washing over him and sending dirt and disgust swirling down the drain.

Under a sonic, though, he never  _feels_ clean. Everything clings to his skin, leaving ghostly impressions as a reminder of his misdeeds.

He raises his hands, flips them so his palms face up, imagining the streaks of blood that stained them earlier.

Blood.

Guilt.  

Will he ever feel truly clean?

He shakes his head.

_Here, now_.

There are some luxuries that few can afford, like sonic showers.

At home - on Fest - they used melted snow collected in buckets. He remembers watching the surface slowly bubble as the water began to boil, threatening to send precious droplets spilling over. The slight pride in his Mama’s smiles when Cassian called for her just in time to save them from the disaster of wasted water.

Once, she hadn’t been fast enough, and he had tried to take it off instead and burnt his hands taking the bucket. He managed not to slosh it.

Even so his mother’s expression had darkened. Cassian had feared he had somehow angered her. For what, he didn’t know, but the sadness in her eyes tore his heart even then.

Now he understands she’d hated to see him in pain.

She always hated seeing others hurt, much less her own child. 

_And now he -_

(He’s been in the fresher too long. Jyn’s stopped walking around the ship, her feet casting shadows under the fresher doorway.

She knocks at the door. It rattles on its hinges.) 

It roars in his ears, the chime of blasterfire, screams of terror. Rebels and Imperials in pools of blood the same colour, the same deep red for humans. His finger trembling over his blaster’s trigger, because Bodhi and Galen were Imperials and half the people he’d recruited for the Rebellion used to be passive bystanders and he’d always known but Scarif had been the straw that broke the tauntaun’s back.

Cassian is the tauntaun and his back is broken.

Broken, like the fresher door that caves in, and it startles him out of his reverie.

“Cassian?” Jyn asks for the hundredth time, voice upticked with worry.

“I’ll-I’ll be done in a minute,” he manages to reply, surpised by the rawness of his own voice.

Had he been crying? 

“Okay.” Jyn sounds unsure, but even from the beginning their relationship had been built on trust so Cassian hears the door fall shut a moment later. He doesn’t wonder how she picked it open, only somberly shuts off the sonic and quickly dresses himself. 

His breathing is too loud. It rattles in his ears and as he dresses he times his breath.

_In, out._  

He steps out, smoothing out his shirt while carrying his neatly folded and very dirty clothes in the other hand. Jyn’s making an attempt at busying herself, the kettle on the counter’s lights blinking green as she bustles around the ship’s tiny kitchenette. 

She stops when she senses him at the doorway, setting mugs on the counter and turning to look at him. He knows she’s trying to keep her expression neutral, light even, but the lines around her mouth are too tight and her eyes are rounded with worry.

“Jyn,” he starts, unsure of what to say and how to say it. 

She’s still clutching a spoon, her grip white. 

“Are you in the mood for sugar in your tea?” 

“Jyn - I’m sorry. Are you mad with me?” The words spill out and once they’re in the air he realizes how stupid they sound. She’s not mad, and to prove it she sets the spoon over the rims of the mugs before walking up to him.

She shakes her head. Emboldened, Cassian raises his arms slightly in their usual signal. Jyn follows through, looping her arms around him in a hug, grasping him tightly.

“I was worried,” she mumbles into his shirt a minute later. Her cheek is warm against his chest. He wonders if she can hear his heart racing and bites his lip against embarassment. 

“I know,” he whispers into her hair. “And I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“It’s not your fault. You’re the one who told me that.” Her voice is muffled by his body, but he can feel the slight humor in her voice. “And I don’t have to worry. I choose to.” 

He squeezes her briefly, reminding himself that this moment was just as real as the deaths he’d witnessed hours earlier. 

(Chaos, yet harmony.) 

“I know. I just wish it didn’t have to happen - to either of us.” His voice is still a little rough but it’s closer to his natural low rumble, as Jyn likes to tease him to his chagrin.

“So do I.” 

The kettle’s lights switch to red as it clicks off, and Jyn disentangles herself from his arms. Cassian’s disappointed by the lost warmth but smiles down at her nonetheless. They stare at each other for a moment that’s at once too long and not long enough, and he once again entertains a train of thought that this time doesn’t end in darkness. He reigns it in anyways, not out of fear for where it might lead but the knowledge that it would have to wait. 

They way Jyn looks at him whispers,  _maybe not that long_. 

Maybe, someday. 

If they outlive the Empire, or if their walls fall completely. 

She drops her gaze and he can make out the red that tints her cheeks even in the dim grey-blue lighting of the ship as she ducks her head towards the mugs. 

“Sugar?” she asks again, kettle hissing as she disengages it from the power source.  

“Sure. I’m in the mood for something sweet.” Feeling useless, Cassian takes on the burden of finding the least bitter tea leaves and plunking them into the mugs. The spoon clangs against the side of the cup as Jyn mixes in sugar, and she startles when she turns around to hand him a mug and bumps up against his proximity.

“Jyn?” he starts again, nerves clenching tightly around his heart. 

“DId I put too much sugar in?”

He blows out a sigh.

“Why do you worry?” 

“Why do you worry about  _me?”_

Her response is fast enough he knows she’d been waiting to use it. He wets his lips, shifting his weight unsteadily.

“Because we’re teammates. Partners. We-we have each other’s backs.” 

She gives him an odd look that he isn’t quite sure to make of - something he’d seen a lot of recently. He takes the mug from her to hide his confusion.

“To partners,” she murmurs with a slight smile.

“To partners.” 


	40. Intoxicating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cats-and-metersticks requested: 43 “Are you drunk?” (Jyn)

 

"No,” she quips back. Jyn drops her guise for a moment, gripping Cassian’s forearm tightly, steadying the sway of her feet. After years on her own she’s perfected the technique of appearing to be drinking more than she has - which is next to nothing. 

She must be doing better than she thought if Cassian’s worried or perhaps he’s still playing the role of the smitten companion. 

“Good.” The look of concern on his face softens and he gives her an almost bashful look through his dark eyelashes. The buzz of chatter among revelers in the background faints to a hum as strains of music cut through the noise. To anyone else, they look like just another couple. 

Jyn knows better. She can feel the tension in Cassian’s posture. He’s alert, waiting for the signal to buzz in his earpiece. 

The look in his eyes is uniquely him, though. She’s glimpsed it before in fleeting moments between missions, identities, planets. It’s _Cassian_ that runs a thumb over her wrist - their cue - before pulling her closer. She moves with him, leaning close enough so his lips almost brush her ear. 

“Are you enjoying this?” His tone is gentle, softened by the natural flow of his cadence uninterrupted by the jarring pronunciation of the Core. 

The high life of glitz and glamour irks Jyn more than the grimiest of missions. Tonight is different, though. Like Cassian, she’s not forcing a Core accent and is wearing the nicest clothes she owns - none of the worries of a dress that’s too tight, too short, too low, too glittery, too unsafe.

She feels like herself. The softened lines of Cassian’s face, the touch of an easygoing smile on his lips, and the tender way that he holds her - arm looped around her waist - make Jyn wonder if he’s feeling the same way.

Jyn leans in his grip, mulling over a response. She tracks his gaze as it flickers over her face, lingering briefly on her eyes before tucking away a misbehaving strand of hair behind her ear. The scant lighting of the pub catches in his eyes, giving them an added playful sparkle.

She supposes, now, that it’s possible to get drunk off things one can’t consume - there’s no other explanation for the growing warmth lingering in the space between them, the sudden uptick of her hearbeat as she leans in to respond.

“As much as you are,” Jyn murmurs. It’s the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking requests! Shoot me a message @cassianandorjyn on tumblr :)


	41. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (1+5) cats-and-metersticks started with: "Whenever Jyn woke up before Cassian, she always did her best not to fall back asleep."

 

It’s a survival skill, Jyn tells herself as she creeps along the ship’s corridors to the refresher. A good solider is ready by oh-five-hundred and a fighter wakes before anyone can lay a finger on her - she passes by the closed door to Cassian’s quarters as she thinks this, and sighs.

In the field, after their bond was strengthened by the most harrowing of missions, she stays awake to watch over her companion. This is teamwork, she tells herself, something that she’d lacked over many solitary years - for once she needs to keep others safe, not just herself. 

Now, she’s careful not to jostle him as she shifts under the bedsheets - the deep lines around Cassian’s features lose their grip as he sleeps, and she can’t believe how peaceful he looks.


	42. Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon requested: “Wait, no, don’t take kissing away from me.” 

Cassian shoots her the most pointed look he can muster from under four blankets and the depths of the balmorra flu. The dark bangs of hair plastered to his forehead and the redness of his nose weakens the effect of his glare. Not that any look of his ever made Jyn acquiesce without a fight.

“I’m sick.” Cassian’s voice is hoarse yet he manages to stress the last syllable, pressing all his might into one word. “Not you too.” He turns his head towards his shoulder, away from her, and a cough wracks his body. 

“I won’t get sick, I wasn’t-”

“I said the same thing, Jyn.” 

Jyn feels a smile tug a smile at the corner of her lips. If anyone could match her in stubbornness, it was the man currently sniffling in bed beside her. Jyn kneels  on the edge of the bed, legs tucked underneath her, one hand resting on his chest. 

“Okay, so we’re all vulnerable. But no cheek kisses? I can’t get sick from those.”

“I’m sure that’s flawed logic,” Cassian half-heartedly replies. 

She’s not sure if she’s winning or if he’s just too tired to respond. Already his thoughts are trailing off into indiscernable mumbles.

She catches the word  _Kay._

“I’m not asking Kay what the probability of me getting sick from a cheek kiss is, he’s probably going to tell me I’ll die the following morning and leave you a widower.”

Cassian mumbles someting like  _not married._

Jyn grins despite the heat rising to her face. “No, we aren’t, but that’s what Kay will say anyways. For a droid, he’s rather fond of drama.” 

Cassian’s lips twitch up into a smile, then he coughs again. Jyn frowns.

“Get some rest, Cass. You won’t get better if you keep bickering.”

His response is a lame excuse of a grumble as he burrows deeper into his cocoon of bedsheets, turning away from Jyn. Despite the sickness, the sight of Cassian all rolled up in bed pulls a little at her heartstrings, and she’s glad he can’t see her blush deepen in hue. 

“Sleep tight,” she says. She quickly leans down, and before he can protest, pecks his cheek before slipping away for the rest of the night.


	43. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @dasakuryo requested 17: “stop making empty promises!”

Cassian thumbs his passcode into the lock. He’s hardly paying attention, the full weight of the past few weeks has finally crashed down on him in the form of a headache. If it wasn’t for years of pushing through exhaustion to get the job done, he’d immediately collapse onto his bunk and fall asleep fully clothed.

The bag hanging off his shoulder is begging to be unpacked and Cassian desperately needs a shower. As the door slides open his mind is occupied with thoughts of a hot sonic and warm bedsheets. 

He kicks himself for letting exhaustion get to him as soon as he spots the misshapen outline of something sitting on his bed in the dark. In the half-second before the lights flicker on, the grey shadow moves and the single strap of his bag falls off his shoulder as he reaches for his blaster.

Then he recognizes the shadow, and light shines on the face of a friend.

Jyn.

_In his bed?_

_In his room?_

_On base?_

The second question answers itself.

Once upon a time Cassian had suggested that Jyn sign up for the Intelligence division, considering both her physical and technical strengths. Though she had chosen to work with the Pathfinders, her slicing skills remain painfully intact.

He’s going to have to change his passcode. 

And add a layer of encryption. 

(Then let Jyn see him type in the passcode anyways.)

He takes off his boots, sending a faint layer of red and blue dirt to the floor. It settles in a multicoloured pattern as he neatly sets his boots beside his desk. When he straightens, Jyn’s fully sat up. He catches a glimpse of her bright green eyes before they dart towards the closed door. Her lips are tugged down in a half-frown. Her posture is relaxed, though, so Cassian knows she isn’t upset - just isn’t quite sure what to say.

Nether does he. 

“I’m going to shower,” he states abruptly, reaching for the handle to the refresher. A small perk of his status in the Rebellion - private ‘freshers are hard to come by. At first he’d thought that was why Jyn, who shared her quarters with Lieutenant Bey and two other Pathfinders, chose to frequent his room.

He’d realized otherwise soon enough.

This is the first time - to his knowledge - that Jyn’s been in his room without him in it since the days after Scarif. Back then, he’d still been stuck in the medbay and had offered Jyn his empty room for some privacy. 

Then he’d been discharged, and she’d left to her own quarters.

Then the nightmares started coming.

(To be honest, they’d both always had them. Scarif made them worse, but once they both had left the medbay it was impossible to deal with them. 

It took two days without sleep before Jyn knocked at his door. It took another three days before she stopped knocking.) 

Cassian abruptly realizes he’d forgotten to get his sleep clothes. He strides out of the ‘fresher, tension lining every muscle of his body. He can feel Jyn’s eyes on his back as he rummages through his drawers.

_Pants, shirt -_

The realization hits him as sudden as the drawer falling shut. He stands, clothes gripped in his hands.

“Welcome home.” 

“Thanks.” It comes out more like a question.  There’s a slight hoarseness to her voice, giving it a rough edge despite her gentle tone. “And I’m sorry.” 

_There it is._

Cassian sighs, letting a breath out slowly through his nose. His eyes flicker over the mirror mounted on his dresser, finds the Jyn’s reflection staring at him. Her shoulders aren’t raised - she’s not feeling defensive.

“Stay,” he asks gently, looking at her reflection. “At least until I’m out of the sonic?”

She doesn’t nod, but the tension in the air palpably lessens. Cassian can feel the unspoken promise.

The surprise of Jyn’s presence has cleared some of Cassian’s grogginess, so by the time he steps out of the sonic his thoughts are clearer - and have turned to Jyn.

The last time Cassian had come back from a mission, Jyn was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t expect her to be waiting for him in the hangar - their friendship didn’t extend beyond his quarters, apparently - but she wasn’t in the mess, not in the training gym, not in any of the corridors, and wasn’t answering her comm.

She wasn’t in the medbay either. He’d checked. Twice. Then sliced the records.

She wasn’t on a mission. Her Pathfinders team had returned from their mission and had even been deployed on their next one while he had been gone. 

He’d finally had to let go of his incessant Intelligence-bred need to know until the Pathfinders came back. Slowly he moved on, yet something felt missing.

He hated the feeling, hated himself for getting caught up in his emotions. No relationship of his, of any kind, had been permanent. Not even Kay, who was now just a memory.

It was one of Jyn’s teammates who eventually told Cassian, after he’d worked up the nerve to ask, that Jyn had left. The Pantoran woman said it with a slight scowl, but had quickly added that she’d completed the mission before leaving.

Cassian didn’t look for her after that. Jyn’s an adult and had lived on her own before. She’d  _thrived_  alone. He was the one who’d helped drag her into the Rebellion. He didn’t regret it and despite everything he knew she didn’t either - it was their choice to make. 

Still. Worrying about her was none of his business, shouldn’t be nagging him, , and yet - 

He’d written it off as worry over Jyn being compromised and revealing secrets to the Empire.  _She’d been caught before._

He knows that wasn’t why.

As he pushes the ‘fresher door open with a squeak, Cassian can hear the slight rumple of fabric. He’s greeted by Jyn, who’s now sitting on top of his bedsheets. He lets his eyes flicker from holding her gaze, to the edge of the bed, an unspoken question. When she nods he flicks off the light then joins her on the bed. 

“It’s your bed, Cassian,” she says, setting her datapad aside. 

Cassian raises his shoulders. “And you’re sitting on it.” 

There’s a moment of awkward shuffling as Cassian reclines. He props his back up with a pillow while Jyn busies herself with studying a smudge of something dark on the cuff of her sleeve. 

“Thanks for staying.”

She blinks at him, eyes made glassy by the scant light. 

“Waiting for me to shower, I mean.”

“Oh.” 

“I mean-” he falters. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I…” Honestly, he should be over it by now, but for some reason - he can accept her apology, he knows why she did it, there’s no reason for him to be this hurt. He  _wants_  everything to go back to normal, and yet - 

“I understand.”

“I- I still shouldn’t have. I got scared, I-” her voice chokes off mid sentence. “I’m sorry I ran away.” 

“Jyn.” Cassian’s voice rustles in the dark, tinged with sleepiness and concern. “Jyn, it’s okay. You aren’t - nobody’s obligated to serve in the Rebellion, okay? We - I said this after, after Scarif, after the Death Star, you’re free to leave any time.”

Jyn’s hugging her knees, her foot just close enough it just about grazes his thigh. Cassian’s eyes are on her face though, and in the hazy dark of the room he can still see the dark lines of her eyelashes against her pale skin, the stray locks of hair framing her face. Her gaze is cast downwards, towards his hand resting in the sliver of space between them. It curls into a loose fist, fingertips dragging the fabric.

“Just…. next time, tell me before you go. Leave me a message, or let someone know, so I don’t - so I don’t-”

Cassian licks his lips. This is harder than he thought it would be. It’s easy for him to sweet talk sentients out of the worst of situations, he knows exactly what his superiors want to hear, but Jyn - he has to be himself, he has to be honest with her.

He’s almost forgotten how. 

“I promise I’ll stay.”

He shakes his head. 

“That’s not the promise I need, and-”

“You don’t think I can keep it,” Jyn replies softly, mouth curling downwards.

“No!” Cassian’s startles himself by the harried sound of his voice. “No,” he repeats quietly. He shifts his weight onto his left hand, hoisting himself enough so he can face Jyn directly. “We agreed to trust each other. I know you will do what’s best for you, and you know I wouldn’t stop you from doing it even if I had the power to,” he adds with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Trust that I’ll trust you, Jyn, because I will. Just  _tell_ me next time, or I’ll have no-”

“Cassian, I’m  _sorry._ ” Jyn’s voice cracks, and Cassian suddenly feels very ashamed for causing such an outburst.

“I’m sorry too.” She looks up at him curiously through dark framed eyes. “Clearly I havent made myself approachable for you, and I’m sorry. It’s hard,  _this,”_ he gestures vaguely, “is hard. I know you know-” 

“It’s _so_  hard, Cassian, we’re both trying and trying and I know you are and you know I am but- but I don’t know - I keep messing things up -”

“ _I_  keep messing things up. We’re such messes.” 

Jyn’s leaning close now and even in the dark Cassian can make out the brighter parts of her iris that shine gold in the daytime. She offers him a self deprecating smile. 

“We’re the messes that helped steal the Death Star plans,” she adds, smile widening, and Cassian grins.

“We are.” 

They sit like that for a moment longer until Cassian becomes hyperaware of Jyn’s warmth on his skin, and then he leans back into a sitting position. Light ebbs and flows from outside in the corridor as personnel walk past and the emergency lights run through the night cycle. The scant light adds vibrance to the red and blue half-footprints on the floor, and Cassian slowly begins to tuck away thoughts of his mission, Jyn, and headache aside.

Cassian begins to nod off, still acutely aware of the regular rhythm of Jyn’s breathing. Just as he’s about to slip under, he hears her say:

“I missed you.”

And like that, all that was confused is realigned. 

“I missed you too.”


	44. Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested "Meet through both being a part of track team (or swim team)" and I wrote something completely different XD

 

If Jyn sits and thinks hard enough, she can remember bits and pieces of her childhood. 

Others in the Rebellion collect trinkets from their travels or gifts bestowed upon them by loved ones. Rings, clothing, even tattoos. 

Jyn has her mother’s necklace and the scarf Saw gifted her, but she finds herself more inclined towards collecting memories.

For a long time she’d only seen memories as dangerous. Something that could hurt her - did hurt her. Even now, somedays the feeling of loss feels fresh enough she wakes up in a cold sweat - finds herself clutching the back of a chair with a white-knuckled grip. She understands why these things have happened to her, but it doesn’t lessen the ache of the semi-healed wounds they’ve left behind. If she begins to tread down that path once again, it’ll lead her into a spiral of darkness.

It’s a luxury she can’t afford, especially now with so many lives depending on her. 

Jyn is well aware she’s not the only one with a conflicted past. She recognizes the weariness in the bags under other Humans’ eyes, in sagging lekku, ashen scales, and the deep creases of Cassian’s face.

She’s less resistant to her memories now - any restraint, the willpower she had to hold them back, was demolished on Scarif.

They snuck up on her: a flash of rolling green fields as they hiked up to a vantage point, their covers’ apartment layout too familiar. Fleeting images that had tugged her into spirals she could no longer fight back, with Mama and Papa and Saw and their legacies all blown to stardust.

Cassian understands. He gave her time and space, then care and comfort. He’d given and given and given until Jyn realized - 

he had the same problems too.

He was better at hiding things around her, used to being someone else around other people, lost himself long enough that maybe he’d forgotten. He hadn’t. Something in Jyn unlocked the same in Cassian.

They let the past spill over them while safe in their private sanctuaries, the only witness being the other person. It was like holding one’s breath underwater. Longer and longer until it became second nature. A quick dip, suffocating, but a cold shock needed to keep the lethargy away.

They had sunk until they learned how to float, and now Jyn knows how to swim. She sits idly with her datapad in her lap, her outstretched legs crossed over Cassian’s knees. She can hear the faint chatter of Devaronian children as they play outside. Their alternating shouts, cheers, and groans indicate some form of chasing game.

Jyn closes her eyes and lets the noise fade to a hum.

Devaron is a lush tropical planet, the deep greens reminiscent of Lah’mu’s fields. She can feel the cool, salty air on her cheeks. It tangles itself in her hair, ruffles her clothing, fills her lungs with sweet sharpness as she runs, runs, runs.

She loved to run. 

The faint memories she has of her parents’ Courscanti apartment only remind her that under the Empire, she was never free. Only her precious years on Lah’mu afforded her the opportunity to run just  _because,_ instead of running from stormtroopers looking for an easy target, inebriated underworlders looking for a treat, Saw’s early morning training sessions, pirates looking for working hands, and fear, fear, fear.

In her memories the black sands of the beach are surprisingly warm against the bare soles of her feet. The footprints she leaves behind are engulfed by iridescent blue waves.

She is free, she is free, she is free.

She feels Cassian shift in his seat. Jyn’s eyes flutter open to Cassian’s intrigued gaze fixed on her face.

“I used to love running,” she explains nonchalantly.

There’s still a part of her that expects a dismissive chuckle. Instead, Cassian sets his work down and sits up straighter. Jyn lifts her feet off Cassian and tucks them underneath her. 

“It is hard to run on Fest,” he explains. “The snow is too deep, the ground is too icy, and the sharpness of the cold air makes it hard to breathe quickly.” His gaze grow distant, as if the forests outside their ship had morphed into snowbanks.

She crinkles her nose in response, thinking of her long patrol stints on Hoth. “Sounds pleasant.”

Cassian’s gaze returns to meet hers. “We still ran anyways. It takes a lot to stop children from having fun. Proper boots always helped. Even in the worst of times I’d be running around the legs of the older children.” He grins. “Always in the way.” 

“You were the youngest?” 

It’s odd, trying to picture him as a child. Cassian’s tall for a human and has always looked older than his years. There was the one mission where he’d had to forgo his usual scruff in favour of that world’s grooming customs. She remembers the wave of shock that hit her as soon as Cassian stepped, bare-faced, out of the fresher. It was like looking at a stranger, as if she was seated across from Mothma and Draven all over again.

If she squints at him long enough she can uncover those boyish looks, especially when he smiles like this.

“Most of the kids in the neighbourhood were older, yes. But I ran the fastest. It’s why they made me the runner.” It’s supposed to be a sobering reflection: Cassian working as a messenger for the Festian Resistance, but the crinkles around his eyes betray no sadness. 

“The fastest, huh?” The smile on Jyn’s face unfurls slowly, like a tooka-cat eyeing a bowl of fruit soon to be upended. Cassian knows it well, should know well enough not to say: 

“Faster than you, I bet.”

“You  _bet?”_

* * *

Jyn stands slightly hunched over with her hands on her knees. She squints into the distance at the thick treeline, searching for a relatively clear path to satisfy their objective.

“Found something adequate, Lieutenant?” Cassian’s using the voice he saves for official business and telling off the new recruits - clipped and blunt - but his thoughts betray him with the uptick at the end.

Jyn straightens and crosses her arms. “Affirmative, Major,” she responds in kind, then cracks a smile. “We’re going to have to run mostly around the ship.” Her smile threatens to widen further at the barely-restrained choking sound Cassian makes.

“No alternatives?”

“Either that or we run where the children will see, and they will definitely inform their parents and completely illegitimate our mission. Or we fly out to the lowlands-”

“But that’s a waste of fuel.”

“Exactly.”

Cassian huffs a slow sigh. “I can’t believe I agreed to do this.”

“You can back out anytime-”

“How many laps?”

* * *

_Five_

Jyn doesn’t remember ever running competitively, she never had the endowment of siblings or neighbours. The closest thing she can compare this to is her training with the Partisians. Even then they were carrying loaded backpacks and rifles in order to simulate what Saw called  _real life situations._ Here, her hands are empty and her focus is not on survival but winning.

Beating Cassian.

Which sends a different sort of adrenaline through her veins.

_Four_

Devaron is mostly tropical jungle with smatterings of hills and valleys. She supposes it could be worse - the terrain here is even, but the humidity of the air causes her feet to sink into the undergrowth.

She does not turn to see how Cassian is faring. She doesn’t gawk at the vines overhead, she focuses on treading lightly and quickly. 

Evidently, running is harder when you have nothing to run from.

_Three_

She realizes her mistake as soon as she starts her second lap. She’d been sprinting on instinct. In the field, it gives her enough distance between her and her pursuers, but in a race it just leaves her feeling exhausted.

Her clothes are sticking to her body and she knows in a minute her face will be flushed red.

It’ll be worth it if she wins.

_Two_

Cassian has stupidly long legs and it’s unfair.

_One_

She swallows back a groan and  _sprints._ She’s trailing just behind Cassian now and she’s almost glad because she’s sure he’s smirking. She could discern the pattern of the soles of his boots as they flash upwards but her eyes are ahead at the open ramp, their finish line.

Their boots clang against the durasteel at the same time. 

“Cockpit,” she gasps, lunging forward.

Cassian wordlessly keeps running. It’s harder as the ship narrows towards the front and he has to maneuver around tighly packed containers. Jyn brushes past him as she squeezes through the hold. He’s just as warm as she is but his hands are still cold as they graze her arm.

She slams the door to the cockpit open and barely slows enough before falling into the pilot’s seat. Cassian’s foot sets down in the cockpit a fraction of a second later.

“I win,” she crows breathlessly.

“You aren’t supposed to sit after running,” Cassian says between breaths, hands on his knees. “You’ll pass out - kriff, I think I’m out of shape.” 

Jyn pushes herself out of the seat and approaches him, still trying to catch her breath. The burning of her muscles has slowed and she gently nudges Cassian, who’s leaning against the doorway.

“So where’s my prize?” 

Cassian groans and covers his face. 

Jyn grasps the doorway and swings past him in search of their canteens of water. “Dinner’s on you tonight!” she chuckles, opening their refrigerator and taking a long swig of water. She can hear footsteps approaching and leans back to grin at him. “Having regrets?” 

Cassian shakes his head with a slight smile as he reaches for another canteen. “I’d like to see you try this on ice.” 

She wipes the water off her mouth with the back of her sleeve. “I’d like to see you  _swim.”_ She had learned on Lah’mu, her mother gripping her tightly as she splashed in the waves. It’s a skill she’s rarely used since, and:  “I fancy you didn’t learn to swim on Fest.” 

“Scipio, actually,” Cassian replies coolly as he sips water with the slightest of twinkles in his eye. 


	45. Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ghostborscht requested 29. “how much money would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?”

“Jyn-”

“How much?”

“ _Jyn, no_.” 

“It’s a teaching method. They should know how to do this - don’t even lie, I remember you pulled the same thing at the cantina brawl on Morishim, so how much-”

“ _Zero credits,_ Jyn, I don’t want you breaking a table. We’re strapped for resources as it is.”

Jyn huffs out a sigh and perches her hands on her hips. “You’re no fun, Andor.” 

He shrugs, then claps for the cadets’ attention. “We’ll see about that.”


	46. Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon requested my Restaurant AU + Cassian has only ever sung for himself and Jyn walks in on him singing when he thought he was alone

When Cassian cracks the window open he’s immediately hit with a blast of heavy summer air. He takes a moment just to lean out and appreciate the warm caress of humidity clinging to his skin. 

He peers down at the sidewalk. Tourists loiter around clicking photos beside towering skyscrapers and elegant old buildings. Otherwise, the university district is noticeably empty. 

Cassian sighs and leans back into the embrace of the air conditioned kitchen.  

He returns to meal prep, the steady thunk-thunk-thunk of the knife against the cutting board having lost its accompaniment in the muffled shouts of the martial arts students next door. Chirrut and Baze, much like most in their part of the district, have locked up their studio for the slow season and taken their annual monthly leave to return to their ancestral home.

Cassian’s mother departed for his sister’s home in Mexico the week prior. He grins at the memory of her with piles of boxes on her luggage, prattling on about how it does no good for her granddaughter to have not been spoiled by her abuela for such long stretches of time. 

He neatly swipes the finely chopped vegetables into a bowl, a menagerie of bright colours on a white canvas, and carries the bowl to the fridge. As he yanks the door open he catches a glimpse of the dining area. 

As expected, it’s empty, save for a familiar figure hunched over her notes in the corner booth. The window covers in that corner of the restaurant have been yanked down slightly to offer some privacy from curious passerby while still letting the light of the high summer sun in. It’s this light that tangles in Jyn’s hair, giving select streaks a golden hue that matches the flecks in her eyes. He can’t see them from here, though. She’s scribbling away at an assignment, alternating between poking at a calculator and flipping through her textbook. Her lower lip juts outwards and her eyebrows are scrunched together in determination. He can hazard a guess at what’s playing in her earbuds - most likely a tutorial or perhaps one of her mother’s favourite songs.

He’s grinning as he heads to the sink.

Both he and Jyn had agreed to take online courses over the summer. Jyn is eyeing an early degree completion while Cassian was just trying to maintain routine and not go mad. His books are sitting on his shelf in his room upstairs - with Bodhi, Kay, and Leia home for the summer and Luke working full time, it’s down to him and Jyn to run the restaurant.

There are cooks to help, of course, which leaves them some time to work. Jyn’s chosen to latch on to the opportunity and finish that assignment. Cassian doesn’t mind. There’s something about the rhythm of cooking that soothes his rattled nerves, something about the scents and sounds that calms his mind. Jyn’s said the same thing, though he suspects it’s just the opportunity to stab something without getting into trouble - she does wield knives with terrifying confidence. 

He rinses his hands, reaching to turn off the tap with dripping hands that let water splash on the floor. Thankfully, his mother isn’t around to chide him. He reaches for the mop, intending to clean the rest of the restaurant anyways while it was still too early for the dinner patrons to come in. 

He trades the mop for a broom and as he grips the wooden handle the image of his mother sweeping the floors comes to mind. A smile flirts with the corners of his mouth at the memory of the home he grew up in.

There are three things Esperanza Andor brought with her when she first moved from Mexico: Cassian, her cooking, and her music. There’s nobody around to listen, so when the strains of the song begin to tug at him, he gives in.

* * *

His voice is haunting.

Perhaps it’s just the choice of song. Jyn catches snippets of the lyrics mumbled under Cassian’s breath between the low rumble of cars passing outside and the sound of the bristles of the broom swiping against the worn wooden floors. 

“…hermano-” 

She’d finally figured out the last question on her assignment and was wondering if Cassian had needed a hand - had taken out one earbud to ask before she started on her next project.

Then she noticed his voice.

Realized. 

_Cassian’s singing._

Not loudly, but still enough for her to hear.

“-es tu tierra la que espera..”

Cassian’s back faces her as he sweeps in front of the cash. He can’t see the surprised look she knows she’s wearing. 

His voice is sweet with the low, rough timbre of his speaking voice. She can’t picture him winning millions of hearts with it but that didn’t mean it wasn’t pleasant to hear. Quite the opposite, actually. If she closes her eyes she can picture the warmth of a crackling campfire, or soft blankets and a lullaby - 

Jyn shakes her head, trying to refocus. Her eyes flicker back to her notebook.

“…sin distancias, ni fronteras…”

Her head snaps back up at the sound of his gentle voice. There’s a power to the lyrics. They reverberate in her mind, catch in her lungs, settle in her heart. She’s barely gotten a grasp on Spanish, only understanding Mama Andor’s basic commands and Cassian’s exasperated mutterings, but she can get a grasp of the song’s meaning. It echoes a distant memory, something from a childhood, a plea - something hopeful. Either that, or she’s just imagining things based on the rich sound of his voice. 

“.. a la marcha -”

Jyn huffs out a long sigh in an attempt to quench the flutter deep in her chest. Her fingers tighten around the pen in her hand, one finger running along the length of her notebook’s coil.

She should probably say something. Probably. It’s not like she’ll be able to get any work done knowing that he’s singing. She doesn’t want him to stop, though. She’d never admit it aloud but Jyn feels like she could sit here forever - in front of her textbook, of all things.

Cassian’s voice catches on a note and Jyn shivers. He’s sweeping down the aisle by the door, now, which means he’ll see her soon and she won’t get to hear him - 

Her eyes widen. _She’s never heard him sing before._  Ever. 

It’s that precise moment that Cassian turns around, dust pan clutched in one hand and broom gripped in the other. Startled brown eyes meet sheepish green ones. Cassian’s lips are frozen around a word. 

Jyn has no idea if her attempt of an appreciative smile has become a grimace, or perhaps she’s just staring numbly like an idiot.

* * *

A curse lingers at the tip of Cassian’s tongue. It takes him what feels like an hour to close his mouth.

Jyn had  _heard_ him.

She’d been  _listening_.

He didn’t know how long. Cassian hoped it was only a few seconds, but judging by Jyn’s slightly parted mouth, the earbud dangling from her pinched fingers, and the pen sitting neglected on her table, it’d been a couple minutes.

He’s not quite sure what to do or say so he ducks his head. Cassian can feel the blush creeping up his neck and across his cheeks, face burning as he dumps the contents of the dustpan into the garbage.

“You, um-” 

Cassian’s head jerks upward towards the source of the voice. Jyn’s avoiding his eyes, her gaze lingering on the edge of her notes. She clears her throat, then looks up at him through dark eyelashes. 

“You sing nice-ly? It was - uhm, the song was,  _wow_. I mean, your voice too - I, uhm, what was it?” 

Jyn’s eyes return to her finished assignment, cheeks hot.

Cassian blinks.

“You think I sing nicely?” 

“I - uhm, yeah. It’s like, a - a regular kind of nice. A real nice, not the fake crap that’s on the radio sometimes. Like, has heart. Meaning.” She gestures lamely, and if Cassian wasn’t embarrassed to the point of deafness, he would’ve heard her muffle a curse. “It was nice.” 

He realizes he’s silently been staring at a scratch on the floorboards for a solid minute now.

“It’s a revolutionary song.” His voice is so quiet he wonders if Jyn can hear him. She perks up a little, sitting upright in the way she does when a prof starts talking about a topic she’s passionate about. “Mama likes to hum it sometimes, when she’s cleaning the house, and I guess I picked it up.” 

“Oh. It sounds lovely.” 

Cassian musters the strength to let his gaze slide over to Jyn’s seat, to the crystal pendant hanging from her neck, to the stubborn lock of dark hair neatly tucked behind her ear. 

“Really?”

“Yeah - Cassian, you should, uhm-”

“Translate the lyrics for you?”

Jyn smiles, a slight parting of the lips and rounding of the cheeks, giving them a colour that lingers in Cassian’s vision. “Yeah!”

* * *

When Cassian turns back to put the broom away Jyn sets her face in her hands. She’d meant to say: 

_sing more often._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to @dasakuryo for translating Hermano Dame Tu Mano for me!  
> [the verses are  
> mira adelante hermano | look forward, brethren  
> es tu tierra la que espera | it’s your land that awaits  
> sin distancias, ni fronteras | without distance and frontiers  
> ...  
> métale a la marcha | keep marching ]


	47. Rewiring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon requested "quidnunc"

“Cassian?”

Cassian hums a response around a mouthful of hardware. Kay perches on an upturned storage crate to face his friend at something resembling eye level.

“Cassian, I require a full response from you. I suggest you remove those screws from your mouth to better facilitate your answer.” 

Cassian’s strained response matches Kay’s audio file for  _I’m busy, later?_

Kay’s motors whir in his imitation of an exasperated huff. “This is important, Cassian, the lack of your input is severely impeding my ability to predict outcomes of high-risk situations. My accuracy has gone down approximately 20% since-”

A series of sparks showers from the Imperial protocol droid Cassian’s working on. He leans away from the angered machinery, careful not to drop the screws, or the spanner in his hand. 

Cassian shoots Kay an exasperated look over the headless droid’s body.

“I had nothing to do with that. That was entirely your doing. There is a 98.7% chance you improperly connected the wire entering the left abdominal servomotor-”

Cassian huffs a breath out of his nose then juts his chin out, indicating Kay to ask his question. Kay happily obliges.  

“Is your preference for Jyn Erso intentional or subconscious?” 

The screws clatter to the grimy floor. 

“Subconcious. Thank you,” the droid replies, apparently oblivious to the look of horror on Cassian’s face. “You may continue - try connecting this wire,” Kay leans over and pulls at a red wire, “over here instead. You won’t overload the battery pack.”

He stands, ocular lights dimming as he studies Cassian’s expression. “Though I don’t know what improperly connected wires in your brain are causing your face to heat up like that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick question - should I continue this work past 50 chapters or just start a new one? (Is it easier to have all my fills in one work or are you all tired of scrolling through all these chapters?)


	48. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @dasakuryo requested "tarantism"

 

Jyn’s head dips forward so her nose brushes Cassian’s shoulder.

They’ve wound up in a clearing far enough from the bonfire that any revelers sober enough to recognize them only see a single shadow. The faint strains of music still reach them here, where it filters through the trees before disappearing into Endor’s night sky.

Cassian’s palm is flat against the base of Jyn’s spine. His other hand clasps hers as he leads her in this dance. They sway like the branches; slowly, in unison, without a care for (lost, remaining) time, (cruel, blessed) fate, or the (mourning, celebrating) galaxy. 

Their fingers are tightly intertwined, an impermeable challenge to the cool breeze that buffets him gently and coaxes the hair out of Jyn’s bun.

Cassian tilts his face upwards to stare at the stars and the glittering remains of the Death Star II. They’re almost indistinguishable from each other: the light of distant gas giants, the last pieces of Galen’s legacy, and the flecks of gold in his daughter’s eyes. 

(It makes sense, then, that they all share the same nickname.)

The Death Star is gone, for good this time, so the rest of Galen’s burden falls on Jyn’s shoulders. They shake, now, with the realization of that weight. Cassian doesn’t pull away to study those gold-flecked eyes, to wipe away the wetness he feels spreading on his chest.

He pulls her closer, holds her tighter, and lets the drums guide them.

(Later, when they’re ready, Jyn leads, her touch dancing along the lines between scars and skin, and it’s their heartbeats that guide them.)


	49. Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cats-and-metersticks requested Cassian + capernoited  
> (potential tw in end notes)

_She should’ve known._

As soon as she loosens her grip on Cassian he crashes onto the mattress with a loud thunk. Jyn grimaces when he groans softly, his arm slipping from where she’d held it around her shoulders. His fingers graze along her skin as they fumble for a steady grip. Cassian manages to grasp her wrist and squeeze it tightly. 

“I-”

Jyn shushes him abruptly. She’s being unnecessarily harsh. It hurts, but there’s no other option. The gala they’d just left had been hosted by one of the Empire’s foremost supporters - the same man owned the hotel that they’re staying in.

“Don’t say anything you’ll regret later.” 

To anyone listening Jyn is speaking of the budding relationship between Lyzen and Willix - about something the timid young girl doesn’t want to hear from her infatuation just yet, especially not while drunk.

Not Rebel secrets - as if Cassian, no matter how inebriated, would ever betray the Rebellion.

_Perhaps there’s more truth in Lyzen’s unease._

Cassian’s hold on her wrist falters and he falls slack against the mattress. Jyn leans forward into the sudden movement. Splayed across the bed like he is now, Cassian looks unlike any version of him she’d ever seen. Even in the bloodiest of situations he managed to lug himself into the sonic and stubbornly shield her from the worst of his wounds. Now he’s tangled up in the jacket he’d partially taken off and the short train of Jyn’s dress.

_The spy that had never been caught._

He doesn’t fit the title, now, where the only sign of life is the rise of his chest and the loll of his head.

“Willi-”

“Sleep,” he slurs, eyes fluttering shut. His voice is already fading into a ghostly echo. Jyn sits down on the edge of the mattress and leans closer to hear him.

“Yes, sleep it off,” she whispers into his ear, pushing the hair out of his eyes. “I’ll be right here if you need me. There’s water-”

“No… _you_  sleep.” 

“I will,” she promises, but a frown tugs her lips downwards. She doubts she could sleep with the image of him like this fresh in her mind.  

“Go… safe.” He peers at her with one eye half-open, eyebrow arched comically in character for a drunk, but Jyn recognizes their signal.

Her breath catches in her throat. 

_Drugged._

She should’ve known. 

She recalls the salty taste of the bright green drink she’d been served at the party. The pungent flavour that even the alcohol inhibitors had done nothing to abate. The small glass that Cassian - Willix - had taken with a good natured chuckle and a jab at the Mid Rim girl on his elbow with no  _refined taste just yet, Officer._

They had swapped drinks, spent the night sipping at them in the methods of their choosing until the informant had safely come and gone.

Then Cassian had grasped her arm tightly and pulled her all the way here - to his room. He’d hardly been able to mumble the keycode into Jyn’s ear, and by the time they’d stumbled into the doorway the drug had taken its full effect.

 _Meant for her._  Likely the sopping loser that had been eyeing her all night despite Cassian at her side - he’d probably mistaken him for a flirtation, an easy pushover in the name of credits or a solidly delivered uppercut. Cassian’s focus was on the mission, not lousy idiots with nothing better to do than oogle women and drug them when they turned him down. Cassian trusted Jyn to handle them, and she usually did. 

She thought tonight was no different but how was Jyn supposed to know the taste of a drug she’d never expected to find in a swanky Imperial party? 

Cassian apparently did.  _He knew._

Jyn’s gaze has strayed to the locked door. Now it returns to Cassian, sound asleep. He’d somehow manuvered into a more comfortable position, but one hand is outstretched towards Jyn, as though he’d tried to reach for her hand.

She can’t leave him like this. 

She rises slowly, kicking their shoes to the side as she does so. Jyn pulls the covers over him, taking the top blanket for herself, then lies down on the small couch.

* * *

When she wakes in the morning she finds herself neatly tucked in on the bed, the scent of Cassian’s cologne clinging to the pillow under her head. Cassian’s shoes are missing from where she’d left them last night.

In their place is the datapad that she’d left in her room. 

_Slept in your room. Went to get breakfast._

Jyn shakes her head slowly, squinting at the bright light of the screen. 

_She should’ve known._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for date rape drug (but nothing happens)


	50. Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cats-and-metersticks requested ultracrepidarian

"Just tell her.” Bodhi gestures erratically, sending his drink splashing up over the rim of his glass. “Liquid courage - or not. You’re - you don’t need it. Never mind.” 

Cassian smiles over the rim of his mug. “I’ll do my best,” is what he says, but he eyes the amber-tinted drink in Bodhi’s hand.

 _Liquid courage._  If that’s what alcohol was, he’d take the offer. Cassian knows better.

Bodhi grins. “Good luck, mate - hey, did I tell you about the one time I asked this guy…” 

* * *

Jyn doesn’t realize she’d been staring off into to the distance until Chirrut clears his throat. 

“One of you is going to have to say something eventually.”

Her gaze slides from a splatter on the mess wall to Chirrut’s gentle smile.

“It’ll happen. The Force wills it, but I can’t say I don’t want it to hurry up.” 

Jyn scrapes the last of her dinner off her plate. ”We’ll see,” is all she says around a mouthful of food. Chirrut grins.

“Did I ever tell you how Baze first…” 

* * *

“It’ll happen,” Baze echoes, and clasps a hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “These things take time. Try not to worry too much.”

Cassian empties his blaster’s powerpack, riddling the target with blasterbolts. 

“I’ll try.”

Baze gives him a knowing smile. “I know you will, little brother. I have to remind you anyways.”

“You have to?”

“I wished someone had told me.” 

* * *

“You’re distracted.” 

Jyn’s head snaps up. Kay towers above her. His head is tilted as he studies her - all droids have quirks, and Kay’s aren’t restricted to verbal expressions. Sometimes she forgets he’s a droid, in all honesty. 

Not that she would ever tell him.

“You can tell?” 

“You only clean your blaster when you need to reflect on past actions or contemplate new ones. Cassian does the same. I don’t understand why either of you don’t just consult me. Tactical analysis is one of my strengths.”

“Not in this field, I think,” Jyn mutters, winding the oily rag around her fingers.

“If I find my background is lacking then I can download the appropriate learning add-ons.” 

An unbidden grin tugs at Jyn’s cheek. “You’d do that for me? That invested in my well-being, are you?”

“Your well being is tied to Cassian’s, and his is tied to mine. It’s simply self-preservation protocol.” By virtue of being a droid, Kay’s voice is monotone, but Jyn can’t help but imagine a smirk as he speaks.

“Cassian’s well being depends on mine?” 

“Don’t be silly, Erso. Of course it does. His mental stats decline significantly whenever your physical well being is at risk, and thus his own long term critical thinking capacity decreases by about 3.1%. I’ve recorded instances of him resisting the effects of neurotransmitter inhibitors for as long as two hours, maintaining his short term thinking capacity to at least 97.5% of normal levels… it baffles me. Your statistics are similar - I estimate Cassian’s effect on you to be about 5.2%. However I have no comparable data on you for the influence of the same drugs but predict your capacity to be no lesser than Cassian’s. You also have the added complication of your impulsive randomizing factor-”

“Wait…” Jyn interrupts. “Cassian worrying about me has more of an effect on him than some  _drugs_ _?”_

Herself, she can believe. Cassian was the first person to ever come back to her and every time she’s thought she’s lost him - it’s sent her spiralling. She’s gotten a better grasp on herself now but it doesn’t lessen the darkness that clouds her mind every time Cassian spends too long on radio silence. But  _Cassian,_ one of the most unbreakable Intelligence agents, feeling the same way? 

“Did you completely miss everything I said?” 

“I can’t believe it.” 

Kay’s motors increase in frequency for a short burst of time - his imitation of an exasperated huff. 

“Believe it.” 

* * *

“You told her  _what?_  I didn’t even know you recorded those stats.”

Kay crosses his arms. “Firstly: she asked. Secondly: of course I do. My calculations are comprehensive and therefore must include approximations the impact of emotion on decisions made in high stress situations.” 

“What did she say after?” Cassian asks, numbly staring at a scratch on his work desk.

“That she would talk to you about it.” As if on cue, a series of knocks rattles the door to Cassian’s quarters. He frowns, wondering who would ask for him at this hour. 

“There’s a 99% chance that’s her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50 Chapters!!! Should I continue? :o


	51. a musing on attraction between celestial bodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: https://cassianandorjyn.tumblr.com/post/174318972236/the-second-panel-of-the-you-make-it-hard-not-to

The woman before him is completely different from the one who’d arrived on Yavin IV what feels like eons ago. Like a phoenix -  _a starbird,_ Cassian thinks with some amusement - reborn from the burning embers of her past self.

Yet to think that that Jyn Erso (freshly plucked from the confines of Wobani, heart buried deep under layers of hurt) and this Jyn Erso (heart bleeding openly on her sleeve, ready to march into the heart of the Empire) are two completely different people would be a falsehood. This Jyn exists because of that one, and that Jyn was this one at heart.

She starts off quoting Gerrera - her adoptive father she claimed to despise for abandoning her. Perhaps she’d realized why he’d done it. Perhaps she was merely making peace with her past before what will most likely be their last mission.  


Either way, Cassian had seen her heart break through her eyes when they’d left Gerrera behind. The cracks had opened then, spilling as tears - no wonder he’d thought the Partisan leader had hurt her - and shattered further when he’d had to drag her away on Eadu. They’d both left her for a second time, and somehow, this time, she seemed to forgive them for it.

Maybe even understand.

(He wouldn’t know, he won’t have the chance to ask.) 

Eadu feels like another lifetime. Two other people. Cassian who’d been so frustrated with Jyn turning a blind eye to the big picture. Jyn was furious at him for seemingly choosing his brain over his heart. (She’d pressed buttons he thought he’d no longer had. It hurt, with her. Both of them hurt.) Ironic, almost, because here Cassian is on a stolen ship with an unofficial mission. Here is Jyn, aflame with light, a beacon of the very hope she lost belief in for the soldiers ready to die for freedom.

A small part of him wished it didn’t have to end like this. He knows not to waste his energy on surviving. Just success. 

_“We’ll find a way to find them.”_

Jyn’s eyes flicker over to meet his, and he desperately wants to lean in, whisper a  _thank you_  and a  _well done_ and  _I’m sorry_ and perhaps _something else_ , if they’d had the time to know each other as something other than broken fighters. To hug her, maybe, and tell her  _my parents left me with a legacy too and I don’t know who I am without it either._ To live and to maybe even - 

What Cassian ends up telling them is the plan that he knows, without Kay informing him, will eventually lead to their demise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated this with my tumblr prompts since MAY. Woopsie. Merry Christmas?


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cats-and-metersticks requested microstory: crave

 

“Where do you want me?” he breathes, voice ghosting over her.

“Anywhere,” she replies. Her grip on him tightens, “everywhere.”


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon requested microstories + dust motes, tender or sea change

_**dust motes** _

The solitary shaft of sunlight is a miniature tractor beam; illuminating the flecks of dust in its path to Jyn’s eyes. Eyes that snap open at the teasing warmth and light - eyes that flit over to Cassian sleeping on the bunk next to hers. So quiet, so unusually peaceful.

A hazy smile spreads on her face. The ship coasts along their path, taking the turn Cassian had carefully typed in hours earlier.

The beam slips away, and with it, its grip on her consciousness.   


* * *

_**tender** _

Cassian never shows pain, and Jyn knows most think he hurts like a droid: not at all. 

But she knows his eyes and the multitudes within them. She knows the patch of skin is still tender from the way he stiffly favours it; the way he turns away from her when he accidentally brushes it - 

his words still ring in her head:  _don’t waste that bacta on me._

She slaps the patch, unopened, on the console before him, and mumbles:  _don’t waste your breath on me._

* * *

_**sea change** _

Once Cassian had broken, asked -  _is there a way around this?_

Draven is factual, a military man before the Republic needed one, but the boy is still a child with stony eyes that burn so brightly - _yes, your judgement. If there’s another way that isn’t more risky, do it._

So he listens to the message and he asks for proof because he believes her but belief means nothing, not to them, and he throws away the rifle because she’s right - the man can speak for himself.

(It doesn’t matter.) 

Once Jyn had broken, asked -  _why?_

Saw is factual, a rebel before the galaxy needed one, but the girl is still a child with cold eyes that gaze so softly -  _because others can’t survive like we can._

So she sits and thinks, because this is the only way she can clear Papa’s name, but suddenly it’s not about that, it’s about doing  _something_  because she’s stayed alive for a _reason,_  and he’s right - it’s about caring because others don’t have the _choice._

(It matters.)

He believes her.

(It matters.) 


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon requested microstories + trembling hands

They stray from the waistband, making a fist out of fabric. Passion, maybe, but Jyn can feel the tremble and knows otherwise.

“You don’t - you don’t have to. Do this, I mean, just because I want-” she starts, hoarse, “Now, or ever-”   


They’re close enough she could swear his eyelashes grazed her forehead as his eyes widen. “I do - I, you do, I do, I  _want_ -”

He raises a hand to her cheek and she presses her face into his palm, feels the callouses, feels the unspoken fear, feels the mirror in her heart.

_(these hands make war not love)_

“You won’t. I won’t. either, we - we’ve,” she sighs into his hand, “I know we can,” she says, and for a touch of finality and proof, gently seals the promise with her lips.


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @dasakuryo requested microstories + sunbathing or comfort food

 

The tooka purrs contentedly, showing no sign of wakefulness save for the gentle sway of its tail as Jyn strokes its back. She’s lost track of how long she’s been transfixed like this, hand warmed by the pool of light the cat naps in; she’s lost track of the time passed since she’s borne witness to such quiet joy -   


No, she remembers:

The light of Cassian’s heart sparkling in his eyes just as the herbs they’d collected fell into a sizzling dance in the pan. Vegetables enveloped by butter, welcomed in its embrace - the steps carefully guided by an uncovered recipe and the hum of a revived song. The final result is hot on her tongue, filling her belly, and warm in her heart - like the man with her who shivers with a sigh that only she,  _only_  she, will ever witness or understand. 

Lost home, lost family, found - no, remembered - in bits and pieces like chipped kyber and fading stardust. New home, new family, found in bits and pieces like flavourful warmth and melted happiness.

Then Cassian sits a plate of tantalizing meat before the tooka cat and it lazily stretches, tongue flicking out in delight, and Jyn has to explain away the chuckle that bubbles in her chest.


	56. Chapter 56

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> literatiruinedme requested microstories + cassian crying   
> (poor bby!)

The back of his hands are wet. That’s when he realizes it - he wets his sleeves right after, swiping the tears away with the same brush he uses while undercover.

_Not now, not now, I can’t afford it, they can’t afford it, she can’t -_

His voice croaks. Cassian’s heart wants to leap out of his chest and lie beside her, bleed the same red, but there’s a smattering of hope in the flutter of her wrist. If he’s been alive for almost three decades it’s because he knows when to choose brain over heart.

Rather, make the heart help the brain.

(He’s glad nobody sees it, but somehow she finds out - by the quaver of his voice.)


	57. Chapter 57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon requested microstories + Ice cold or a heatwave

His hands are cold, her skin is warm; her toes are freezing and his face is flush; somehow, together, they find an equilibrium. Trust, balance, all fall together like stars tumbling as one in hyperspace -

 

“Shavit, Jyn, I’m getting you warmer socks.” 


	58. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon requested microstories + smell

 

I guess we’ve all abandoned the prompt list now XD

Burning fuel and fresh bacta, singed fabric and dusty air - amidst this, somehow, cheap regulation soap and worn leather jackets, soft brown hair and warm baited breath.

Everything about the Empire reeks of death, but somehow, amidst this, love’s scent is sweet.


	59. Chapter 59

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon requested microstories + very chilly Cassian

 

Soup for snow, jackets for wind, anger for rain, caf for numbness, and a blaster for grief. Fest is bitterly cold, just as is Cassian, but a Festian knows how to keep warm.

Life and living, though, he finds unbearably chilly and he wonders how his parents managed to live through a war (and almost make it). 

He finds the answer in the heat of the kyber in his fist - unconditional love, wholly pure (tainted by the past, sometimes, but never anything but honest) and freely given.


	60. Chapter 60

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon asked for Person A keeps winning against Person B at various board games and Person B is a sore loser  
> \+ throwback to one of my old RCprompt fills + I had just seen Solo

 

Cassian enters the Falcon’s lounge just as a raucous bout of cheers erupts through the crowd.

“What’d I miss?” 

Bodhi turns to take the mug of chocolate Cassian offers him. “Jyn’s kicking Han’s butt at sabaac.”

“Is not!” Han crows where he’s hunched over his hand. Chewie lets out a contradictory growl. “Oh shut up, I’m not losing that badly.” 

“He is,” Luke whispers into Cassian’s ear as he passes by, cheekily snatching the mug away from Bodhi’s lips. Bodhi yelps and trails Luke back into the cockpit, the door falling shut behind them. Cassian chuckles as he approaches the dejark table now repurposed for the card game. 

Cassian sets the second mug of hot chocolate beside Jyn’s pile of chips. She glances at it, then up at Cassian to shoot a small smile, before looking back at her cards. 

“That bad, huh,” she mutters over her cards. Cassian feigns a solemn nod, tempted to smile at Han’s expression.

“Oh that’s no fair,” Han interjects. “Andor’s a kriffing spy, how am I supposed to read him?” 

“He has his tells,” Jyn smirks, much to Cassian’s embarrassment. Chewie barks out a laugh. Han huffs and sets down his cards.

Cassian raises an eyebrow. 

“You sure about that, Jyn?”

“I’m sure,” she replies smoothly, and spreads out her cards on the table. “I win.” 

Chewie roars loud enough that the mug threatens to spill over, while Han sets his face in his hands.

“Be glad I didn’t ask for the Falcon,” Jyn chirps as Han transfers the necessary credits over to her. 

“Hey, I won her fair and square.”

“I doubt that,” Cassian muses aloud, and Chewie nods. The Wookie sets an arm on Han’s shoulder, giving his partner a good shake, and with some bemoaning Han rises and heads to the engine room to tinker with the Falcon’s perpetually problematic insides.

Cassian fills the empty seat across from Jyn, who raises her chin. “You going to play me?”

“Ah, no, I’ll just lose. You read me too well.”

“More like, I distract you too easily,” she grins playfully. Cassian quells the heat rising in his face by neatly rearranging the chips left on the table. When he offers her another glance Jyn’s also become vastly interested in the dregs of chocolate powder sticking to the edges of her mug.

“Sabaac, dejarik, rumble pins, what haven’t you beaten me at?” 

Jyn wets her lips. “We usually draw with dejarik, don’t undersell yourself like that. And you’re better at grav-pool than I am.”

“That’s because you don’t have practice with it. Maybe we should get Han to install a pool table on the Falcon.” 

Jyn’s eyes meet his. “Maybe I’ll buy him one with my winnings.”

“What are you going to do with those, anyways?” he asks.

Jyn smiles slyly. 

“I have my ideas, Captain.” 


	61. Chapter 61

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon requested “ew, that is so sappy, i might vomit.” and someone on tumblr I thinkk requested a sequel to Chapter 50 of this work

Kay lumbers into the hallway, Cassian’s door sliding shut behind him with a grating thunk. The image of Erso’s faint frown lingers in Kay’s memory banks before he dismisses it in favour of chastising the mouse droid careening down the corridors on a zig-zag ppath clearly ending at Kay’s left foot.

“Your sensors are malfunctioning.”  


The droid chirps back at him before veering away into the nearest wall, almost tripping a passing ensign carrying a stack of datapads. 

“And who’s  _an un-oiled idiot_  now?”   


The response he receives is the dwindling boop of a fried droid. He slows his stride and ponders his next course of action.

> >> [good soldier protocol] take the mouse droid to be serviced   
> 
> 
> >>>> [efficiency assessment] relocate droid to junk heap :)
> 
> >>>>>> waste of functioning material [good friend protocol] would make Cassian sad :(
> 
> >> [good friend protocol] keep walking aimlessly
> 
> >>>> [stimulation assessment] boring unless [interaction sequence] activates [idiocy assessment] which returns a value higher than 23% and activates the [prove them wrong protocol] :D

Kay’s motors creak as he bends down to pick up the droid. 

* * *

“May I power off here?”

The visibly tired Quarren glances up from their inspection of the still-fizzling mouse droid. “Don’t you have an assigned charging station?”  


“I do but it’s occupied at the moment.”   


The young soldiers mouth tentacles curl inwards. “That shouldn’t be the case -”

Kay increases the expulsion of air from his thermal vent. “I’m  _assigned_  to Captain Cassian Andor’s quarters-” 

Cassian’s name evokes one of two expressions across species: indifference, or recognition. 

The Quarren taps the suction cups of their fingers on their thigh, deep in thought.

“You may.”   


Kay inclines his head.

“Thank you,” he says, before stepping across the myriad of broken droid parts and discarded hardware, ready to settle for the night.   


* * *

>> SCENARIO 1: 

> Neither of them confess anything, and their underlying frustration levels remain high. Kay is at least thankful that Humans don’t release pheromones in times of heat, confusion, and frustration. 

[good friend protocol: exhausted]

>> SCENARIO 9: 

> Jyn says something that [idiocy assessment: 33%], becomes embarrassed [idiocy assessment: above 67%], runs away.

[good friend protocol: activate Pity and Consolation Add Ons]

>> SCENARIO 38:

> Cassian says something that [idiocy assessment: above 31%], becomes embarrassed [idiocy assessment: 49%] stops talking to Jyn, Jyn runs away, Cassian drowns in guilt.  
> 

[good friend protocol: questioning the  _GFP_ ]   


>> SCENARIO 293:

> Cassian resolves all his needs in Jyn, [idiocy assessment: exceeds limits] abandons Kay to rust away in this workshop.

[good friend protocol: T____T]

>> SCENARIO 720,53-

!!! PROCESSING INTERRUPTED BY:

[good solider protocol] TIME IS 06:00 LOCAL HOTH TIME. INITIALIZING [power up sequence]

…

……

……………………….

* * *

“Hi Kay!”  


Kay recognizes Bodhi’s voice approximately 0.34 seconds before the beloved pilot enters his range of vision.

“Bodhi. I’m glad to see you.”  


“Oh! So am I, Kay. Are you headed down for breakfast?”  


Bodhi says it then frowns a little, remembering that KX series droids, along with every other model, don’t require organic nutrition. 

Kay would frown a little because he’s realized he’s still wandering aimlessly.

“I am,” he replies, remembering to ask further: “may I join you?”   


“Sure!”  


They walk down to the mess, Bodhi chattering excitedly about the past day’s events and Kay offers insight on how best to resolve his X Wings’ coolant issue. Their conversation continues smoothly, Kay utterly delighted and incredibly protective of his fellow “reprogrammed” organic. Bodhi actually has some sense, unlike the woman he’s begun to address as “sis”, by carefully avoiding the topic of the blond-haired farmboy Kay is well aware increases his heart rate and speeds up his already rapid communication processes. 

Kay relegates the functions concerning Cassian to the dormant parts of his computer until Bodhi sets his fork down on his tray and glances up at Kay over his mug of caf.

“Where’s Cassian? He’s on base, isn’t he?”   


“He is.” Kay replies, struggling with exactly how much and what details he should divulge to Bodhi, his loyalties to Cassian and Jyn warring with his concern for Bodhi.  


Bodhi simply hums into his cup. “Jyn was looking for him, and he really wanted to talk to her-”

“I last saw them together,” Kay offers helpfully. He wonders if he’s strayed too far when Bodhi’s eyebrows arch up. He waits with rhetorical baited breath, but Bodhi returns to his drink. For all the pilot’s teasing, he’s sensible and knows people’s boundaries. Kay makes a note to ask him for assistance later.    


“If they don’t come down for breakfast we know someone said something stupid,” Bodhi adds, tucking a loose strand of hair back under the band of his goggles as he eyes the cup of canned fruit on his tray. “Or…” he characteristically waggles his eyebrows.  


“Unlikely. Cassian functions better with caf in the morning and the stores in his quarters are empty. I reminded him last night to refill it but then Jyn arrived, and-”  


“And?”  


“I gave them some privacy. I don’t want either of them complaining to me that my presence  _screwed things up_  for them. They’re perfectly capable of  _screwing things up_  on their own.” 

 Bodhi chuckles, scooping the bright, syrupy fruit in his mouth.  


“You’re a good friend, Kay.”

“Thank you,” Kay replies. “So are you.”   


Bodhi pauses, spoon still in his mouth. His gaze fixes somewhere behind Kay’s shoulder and the droid turns to -

“Cassian! We’re over here.” Kay waves his arm. 

“Oh, Kay,” Bodhi mutters, “I think you just drew attention to him.”  


He hasn’t, really, because only a handful of soldiers seated around them bother glancing up at the source of the voice before returning to their conversations, but Cassian initiates his own “indifference” protocols, smiling thinly at Kay before turning to -

Ah. Kay recognizes the flash of brown hair by Cassian’s shoulder.

Jyn.

They’re together.

_She’s smiling up at him._

Which means.

_He hands her a cup of caf, their hands brush for a fleeting moment._   


>> SMILE: Corners of lips turned upwards. Positive or Masked !Positive Expression. Eyes = {invovled}, therefore Positive. 

Positive.

Positive. 

_Her hand lingers on his upper arm._

>> TOUCH: hurt = {negative}. Therefore comforting. Positive.

_Positive._

_Positive._

Kay’s processors cease function, and he slowly turns his chassis to regard Bodhi, whose eyes slide over to meet his optical sensors. 

“Blimey,” Bodhi mutters, “if that isn’t the dorkiest smile I’ve ever seen.” 


	62. Chapter 62

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an anon sent me a very moving ask including the prompt: "Jyn is suddenly taken to the hospital. While sitting in the waiting room with the whole R1 gang Cassian realizes that his feelings for Jyn are deeper than he previously thought. I just feel for some angst, pining, R1 as family and a happy ending."

“Cassian.” 

Air slips into his lungs. 

Cold, with the metallic tinge of cleaning solution. 

Air flows out. Silent, not a sigh or a cry. Squeezed out by muscles that work relentlessly for the greater body’s benefit, with disregard to the galaxy around them unless something barges in and changes that. 

Cassian’s galaxy, now, is the broken tile between his boots. Something heavy must’ve fallen on it, or perhaps an agitated loved one smashed it.

Around him personnel swirl by, pushing hoversleds, checking datapads, hobbling on crutches. The array of sounds falls on uncharacteristically deaf ears. He’s as present as the scuff marks along the floorboards. There, indifferent, unnoticable. 

Feeling absolutely nothing. 

“Cassian.” 

To some surprise, Bodhi knows how to get what he wants. Even Cassian hadn’t realized it, in the tumultuous weeks after Scarif, when most of Bodhi’s focus was getting his memories back in order.

He’d been determined to return to what he’d been before. To the Bodhi who hooted and hollered running across Jedha’s sands, the Bodhi with a rum-loosened tongue sharing secrets over dismantled droid parts in the nooks and crannies of the Academy. 

It took him a long time to realize returning to that is as likely as returning to his childhood home on Jedha. Blasted to stardust by the Death Star.

It’s for the better, he realized, because now the Empire glowers in front of him instead of lurking over his shoulders.

This Bodhi stutters over his words but does not choke on them; he worries what others might think of him when his thoughts get all twisted but he rests easy knowing he made the right choice.

This Bodhi has new friends, a found family, all broken and mended in many different places, with jagged edges that, when worn down, fit together perfectly.

This Bodhi knows how to get through to Cassian. “I’m the pilot,” he reminds himself, of worried brown eyes melting into a smile. 

He can do it again. For him, his friend. 

He has to. They all need each other, whether they admit it or not.

They’re  _family._

He’s careful to plant himself right in Cassian’s field of vision. His flesh hand holds out a cup of warm water, hovering just above Cassian’s nose. 

Bodhi closes his eyes. The adoris-kits of his childhood scamper into his memories. Tiny, frightened things that the stormtroopers often trampled and sometimes kicked. The ones reeking of singed fur and open wounds that his mother would chase out with a broomstick, not realizing they always came back for her son’s soft voice and softer hands that bandaged them, pet them, and fed them the leftovers he was supposed to eat for lunch the next day.

Cassian is no kit, of course, but the way he’s hunched over looks no different from the runts with their tails drooping between their legs. 

And he’s hurt.

Not visibly, save for the cuts crossing his knuckles, but …

Bodhi lifts his eyes to the frosted transparisteel. Dark brown hair splays across the bed, the sight coming in and out of view as medics rush around the room. 

He licks at dry lips. 

When Bodhi looks down he’s relieved to meet the soft brown of Cassian’s eyes. The relief fades when he realizes how dead they look - to most, Cassian always looks expressionless, but between the five of them they know that the secrets to uncovering his thoughts is in his eyes.

Now all Bodhi can see is a door, frozen shut.

“You must be thirsty,” Bodhi says, like a question, but he knows the other man must be, because one of the medics on the way in told him he’d been sitting there for at least three hours, not moving, not speaking except to answer questions about  _the patient._

And probably not wanting to breathe. Bodhi knows the sensation all too well, has felt his own mind and body drift off into nothingness. For someone whose entire job is to slip away into nonexistence, Bodhi has no idea how Cassian remembers to, well, be.

But he does, in the end. For the Rebellion, and for them. 

Cassian takes the cup, runs a thumb along the edge before feeling the brunt of Bodhi’s gaze and slowly taking a sip. 

His throat bobs, and then he motions for Bodhi to sit down.

The plastic chair creaks under his weight, but after flying around for the past week even its uncomfortable maroon back feels like a pillow. Cassian stays silent, as expected, but shifts, suddenly, to lean back in his own chair, gaze sliding to meet Bodhi’s.

The need to say something burns in Bodhi’s throat.

“She’ll,” he starts, and his voice cracks a little. Maybe broaching the topic is a bad idea, but it’s late enough that the squeak of passing med droids has slowed to a trickle and the only sound is his own loud breathing. Something has to keep the threat of sadness at bay, and if it’s Bodhi so be it.

“She’ll,” he swallows, “be alright. She’s… she’s a fighter, told the Death Star to kriff off. She’ll make it.” 

He closes his eyes, vision going droopy, then forces them open again. The harsh lights of the medbay are just enough to burn his vision into wakefulness.

“I-I just got back. In case, y’know, you’re wondering why, why I look like,” Bodhi forces a breath into a chuckle, “like something Chewie might’ve stepped on.” He coughs. “You probably know, but they’re thinking of moving us to Hoth. According to pilot chatter, which is either the most reliable thing in the galaxy or straight up bantha…” 

He’s overdone it, he thinks, but talking always helps, right? He’d wish he knew what to do, like Baze or Chirrut, but then again they’re  _Guardians_  and literal masters of the whole calming-aura-without-speaking, thing. And Chirrut always knows what to say because he’s Chirrut.

They all love him despite it - or because of it - so Bodhi will keep trying.

When he glances over at Cassian, movements growing a little too sluggish for his liking, he’s draining the rest of the water.

“Thanks,” Cassian says, and sets the cup beside his feet. He looks up to meet his eyes, and though they’re desperately tired, bags around his eyes, his mouth flicks upward just a little. “I needed that, Bo.”

“Oh,” Bodhi says, a little dumbfounded, because he’d forgotten  _Cassian’s_ been learning to say the right things - for some reason the charming spy struggled with expressing  _honest_ affection, and still is, but he’s getting there - so the outright admittance of what could be considered a weakness is, honestly, a pleasant surprise.

Bodhi’s been spared that problem, with too many cousins and bunkmates to count, thank the stars, so he replies: “anything for you, mate.” 

The quirk of Cassian’s lip grows stronger, but then his gaze dips to travel across the pilot’s hard lined features. 

“You’re exhausted,” and Bodhi can’t help but shrug sheepishly. “You should go sleep.”

“I wanted - want,” he corrects himself, “to be here.” 

Cassian blinks. Bodhi tracks his movement, the rub of his thumb along the calluses of his trigger finger as he thinks. 

“You can sleep here,” Cassian offers.

“Really?” Bodhi doesn’t have the energy to refuse the offer outright, because he’s so karking tired. “Won’t that weird you out?”

Cassian shakes his head. “Stay, if you want, but you need to sleep.” 

Bodhi nods, once, twice, then nods off, body curling into the seat as if it was his ship, drooping off on Cassian’s shoulder.

* * *

Cassian’s honestly a little relieved. The steady warmth rolling off Bodhi hits his shoulder in waves, a reprieve in the slight chill of the medbay. It wasn’t until he’d taken the cup from Bodhi that he realized how karking cold his fingers are, so now he sits, flexing them to warm them up, picturing the blood in his veins and doing everything in his power to not think about Jyn.

Shavit.

_Shavit._

He had to get them off the planet, himself and her and the rest of the Pathfinders team on the mission, and they hadn’t bothered to inform him things had gone awry until he walked into the hold wondering where Jyn was. He’d been so preoccupied with getting them all to safety, getting them cross the finish line that meant he could tell Draven the  _objective_  was complete, that he didn’t know. He didn’t give the  _one casualty and two serious_  much thought, because dwelling on losses before they were even guaranteed safety was foolishness.

But still.

He should’ve known.

Not that it would’ve changed things, but….

He should’ve. 

* * *

“If,” Chirrut’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, “it would’ve made no difference, why do you fret over it?” 

Usually Chirrut’s presence is preceded by the scrape of his staff, but Cassian’s once again failed to notice his surroundings. He shifts, to regard the older man, careful not to jostle Bodhi, and is unsurprised to find Baze also at his side.

Chirrut raises a hand.

“I can sit right here. The children are exhausted,” he says to his companion, and with no complaining they sit crosslegged on the floor, Chirrut with his staff in hand. Cassian could be naive enough to protest, but with Bodhi fast asleep on his shoulder and Baze’s own stubbornness, it’s a losing battle.

Instead, he asks: “how did you…?”

Bodhi shifts at his shoulder and Cassian realizes the answer. 

“He’s got a soft heart, that one,” Chirrut says. “You do too, despite that fearsome face of yours.”

Cassian half frowns, but then Chirrut digs his elbows between the seams of Baze’s chest plate. Baze grumbles something about  _not_ looking fearsome, Chirrut,  _how would you know?_

Chirrut tilts his chin in response, raising a hand to Baze’s cheek and tapping it lightly.

“I know these things, dear Baze, just as I know Cassian’s heart is about to burst, by stars, child, I can feel it bleeding from your sleeve.” 

Cassian opens his mouth to interject, but then Baze adds: “He’s right.” 

“Are you telling me not to worry about her?” 

“No,” Chirrut replies, smoothing out his robes. “No, this isn’t your  _prison,_ at least, this one you freely walked into,” he jokes, and Baze rolls his eyes.

Cassian is utterly confused, agitation creeping into his features. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re worried about her, as we all are, but you’re blaming yourself, which is understandable but not wholly necessary. You did your best, and now she’s safe, and.” Chirrut pauses, “she is still as bright in the Force as the day I first saw her.” 

“ _I_ saw her,” Baze interrupts, and Chirrut swats his knee. 

“You just told me the girl looks like trouble.  _I_ was the one who noticed the kyber.” 

“Not my fault I’m not force sensitive.”

“That’s because you shut yourself out. Now, that’s not even the point. Cassian, child, please, you’re exuding so much negative energy I’m surprised Bodhi is using you like a pillow. You’re regretful, but I don’t think it’s because of the mission.” 

“I thought she was going to die,” Cassian croaks, a little emboldened by Chirrut’s confirmation of her good health. 

“And you were afraid for her. But…” Chirrut tilts his face, “you’re regretful.”

“Because I couldn’t… I wasn’t there to… I couldn’t help.” 

“Cassian,” Baze starts, and even Chirrut seems a little surprised. “You, of all people, know when you’re wasting energy on something. Especially the past. You move on. You hurt, but you move on. I think Chirrut means to say is, you’re also worried by something else.” 

Cassian stares, Baze’s face resolute, unchanging, not giving him any clues. Bodhi stirs and Cassian has to readjust to keep his chin from thwacking his chest.

_Regretful._

Of what? 

Cassian closes his eyes, and does the hardest thing he’s done in the past few hours: he goes back and thinks. In front of the Pathfinders and the med team that rushed to greet them as soon as they reached the dock, Cassian had kept his face neutral. None of his fears and anxieties even crossed his features. His jaw set, locked them in place, and addressed all the formalities necessary with a tight lipped expression.

After all, Jyn wasn’t the only one hurt, and it would be unfair to show favouritism.

Which… seems to be the problem.

He’d snuck into the medbay afterwards, the red that soiled her vest burned into his vision, found this spot, and decided to keep vigil until the chill stopped his heart. 

He’s punishing himself, because that’s what he does, always does, because physical hurt keeps the guilt and self loathing in check.

He’s punishing himself because… 

he’s afraid she would die without knowing.

Knowing  _what_ , exactly, is the question, something that warms his freezing hands, but when Cassian looks over and meets Chirrut’s unseeing eyes the other man gives him a small but warm smile. 

“You may not have the words for it,” Chirrut says, “but I can feel it. So will she. Now go. Baze will watch Bodhi.” 

“Go where,” he’s about to ask, but then the door to Jyn’s room opens and a medic steps out.

“Sergeant Erso?” the Togurta asks.

Cassian moves to rise, Baze quickly taking his seat so Bodhi doesn’t fall over. “I’m her… supervising officer,” he says, because that’s the only thing that will get him, who isn’t her next of kin, entry into the room.

The Togurta nods.

“She’s awake. You may come in.”

Cassian follows the medic into the room, only stopping to look over his shoulder.

“Tell her,” Chirrut mouths.

The door falls shut behind him.


	63. Chapter 63

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @dasakuryo requested rebelcaptain + The feel of fingertips trailing over a bare shoulder blade + I was inspired about one of her posts about men and dealing with their gf's periods (aka Cassian is a Good Boi)

 

“How are you feeling?”

Jyn’s response is a grimace. Cassian rises, settling onto the bed and lifting her legs into his lap. Slowly, he warms her toes with the palms of his hands, and then begins to work away at her aching feet. Jyn stifles a gasp at the relief.

“The meds haven’t kicked in yet.” She groans and flops her face into a pillow, muttering an expletive easily recognized even when muffled. Cassian sighs, leaning back on an arm and freeing Jyn’s feet. She instinctively curls up into the fetal position, knees tucked carefully around her abdomen.

“Can I help?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I can try?”

“What can you do?” It isn’t an insult, but an honest question. Her voice is strained and Cassian understands how difficult this is for her, having been used to bearing all sorts of injuries with a feral scowl, only to now collapse into bed at the slightest inconvenience.

“Well,” he starts, lying down across from her, “more than you’d expect. You could start with a distraction. Look at me,” he says, and Jyn grumbles before peering up at him from under the pillows. “You took the meds?”

“Yes,” she groans. “Before you got here.”

“Do you need anything? Food, something to drink, something warm, maybe, a hotpack? I think there was a shipment of fruit recently… I can see if there’s any blumfruit, I know you like those when you’re nauseous normally-”

“No,” she shakes her head, and the pillow cover rustles with her. “Stay here.” Jyn burrows back into the covers, curling into herself, and Cassian can’t help but feel his heart warm at the lump of sheets and messy brown hair. “‘n don’t go anywhere 'cause I don’t want to get up to yank you back.”

“Can I,” he starts, and then he clears his throat. “Ah, are you feeling…. cold? Do you mind - do you need me…”

Jyn makes a muffled sound suspiciously sounding like a burst of laughter.

“I won’t elbow you in the gut this time if you touch me, no. Not one of those days.”

Cassian snorts softly. “Good,” he says, worming his way underneath the covers and wrapping his arms around Jyn’s torso. She whines at his touch and he startles at the sensation of warm skin instead of fabric.

“Your hands are freezing!”

“Who told you not to wear a proper shirt?”

“I feel gross, that’s why. Too sweaty.”

“But you’re under a pile of blankets… this isn’t Hoth anymore.”

“I know, all this planet hopping and space travel is messing with my system. Which is not helping.” Jyn groans again and rolls towards Cassian, her back brushing against his chest. “Kriff this. Karking…  should’ve remembered.”

“Well we can’t do much about it right now,” Cassian says into her shoulder. “Are you sure you took the meds?”

“I did, they just take forever to kick in-hey!”

Cassian’s hands ventured towards the cause for all Jyn’s troubles, resting flat across her stomach. It was barely more than a touch, but at Jyn’s reaction he stills.

“¿No te gustó?” he murmurs.

“No, actually, this is is great. Fantastic idea. Fark, Cassian, I think you’ll work better than the meds. Blasted cramps can go kriff themselves.” Cassian tentatively sinks some weight into his touch, hesitantly tracing a path of concentric circles. Jyn adds a litany of curses in Huttese.

“Are you sure I’m not just making things worse?”

“No, no, this girl I knew once told me massaging helps but where in hells would I have the time for that? In the cadre, on my own,” she sighs as he works away at the tightened muscles. “- meds are a thing. I can’t believe I forgot I was supposed to start. Shavit, this never happens, we were so busy… This is the first time I’ve-” Jyn makes a disgruntled noise as he gently kneads away the last of the pain.

“¿Te sientes bien?”

“Sí, sí,” she murmurs and Cassian grins, lips against the nape of her neck, breath ghosting over her skin. “I don’t know if it was the pain meds or you, but… they’ve stopped.”

“Good,” Cassian replies, with no intention of stopping himself, hands firmly around her waist. The rough skin of his palms smooths out the residual aches.

“Cassian,” Jyn begins to protest, but he pulls her in closer and she hums instead.

“Yes?”

She moves unexpectedly, turning in his grasp. Jyn slings her arms over his shoulders, stirring a familiar warmth within him. Cassian opens his mouth to say, well, something that he can no longer remember because Jyn’s mouth is in the way. He’s dimly aware of her hands in his hair and her legs crossing over his, Cassian having happily relinquished all control of the situation. She’s got him exactly where she wants him, where he wants to be, and he’s only thrilled to oblige.

“Better?” he asks, when she pulls away.

“So much,” she croaks, then smiles, sinking her head under his chin. He hugs her, hands gently grazing over her back and stopping around her shoulders.


End file.
